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THE

AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF GOETHE.

TRUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN LIFE.

THE CONCLUDING BOOKS.

ALSO

LETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND,

TRAVELS IN ITALY.

TRANSLATED BY

THE EEV. A. J. W. MORRISON, M.A.

LONDON:
HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.

1849.

LONDON
PEINTED KY HAB^ISUN AND SON,

ST. martin's I.aNE.

ADVERTISEMENT.

The present forms the second volume of the Standard
Library edition of Goethe's Works, and comprises the
remaining seven books of his Autobiography, and
Letters written during his travels in Switzerland
and Italy.

It is intended that the third volume should con-
tain:—

LeTTEKS WRITTEN DURING A SECOND RESIDENCE IN RoME;

Account of the Campaign in France, and Siege of
Mayence, 1792 — 3;

Annals, or Leaves from my Journal, 1749 to 1822,

towards the completion of former confessions.

Biographical Scraps and Sketches.

The subsequent volumes will include Wilhelm
Meister's Years of Apprenticeship and Years of Travel;
Elective Affinities ; the Sorrows of Werther ; Faust ;
and his principal Dramatic, Poetical and Miscellaneous
Works.

H. G. B.

March 1, 1S49.

CONTENTS.

TRUTH AND POETRY.

PAGE

Fourteenth Book 1

Fifteenth Book 32

Sixteenth Book 62

Seventeenth Book 79

Eighteenth Book 134

Nineteenth Book 130

Twentieth Book 153

LETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND.

First Part 169

Second Part 182

LETTERS FROM ITALY.

From Carlsbad to the Brenner 237

From the Brenner to Verona 251

From Verona to Venice 266

Venice 289

From Ferrara to Rome 324

Rome 349

Naples 404

Sicily 450

TRUTH AND POETRY;

FKOM MY OWN LIFE.

^

FOURTEENTH BOOK.

With the movement which was spreading among the public,
now arose another of greater importance perhaps to the
author, as it took place in his immediate circle.

His early Mends who had read, in manuscript, those poet-
ical compositions which were now creating so much sensa-
tion, and therefore regarded them almost as their own, gloried
in a success which they had boldly enough predicted. This
number was augmented by new adherents, especially by such I >/'
as felt conscious of a creative power in themselves, or were
desirous of caUing one forth and cultivating it.

Among the former, Lenz was the most active and he deported
himself strangely enough. I have already sketched the outward
appearance of this remarkable mortal, and have touched affec-
tionately on his talent for humor. I wiU now speak of his
character, in its results rather than descriptively, because it
woidd be impossible to follow him through the mazy course of
his Hfe, and to transfer to these pages a full exhibition of his
peculiarities.

Generally known is that self-torture which in the lack of all
outward grievances, had now become fashionable, and which
disturbed the very best minds. That which gives but a tran-
sient pain to ordinary men who never themselves meditate on
that which they seek to banish from their minds, was, by the
better order, acutely observed, regarded, and recorded in
books, letters, and diaries. But now men united the strictest
moral requisitions on themselves and others with an excessive
negligence in action ; and vague notions arising from this half-
self-knowledge misled them into the strangest habits and out-
VOL. II. B

2 TKUXH AXD poexkt; fuom my o^vn life.

of-the-way practices. But this painful work of self- contempla-
tion was justified by the rising empirical pyschology which,
while it was not exactly willing to pronounce evcrj-thing that
produces inwai'd disquiet to be wicked and objectionable, stiU
could not give it an unconditional approval, and thus was origi-
nated an eternal and inappeasable contest. In camming on,
and sustaining this conflict, Lenz surpassed all the other idlers
and dabblers who were occupied in mining into their 0"wti
souls, and thus he suffered from the xmiversal tendency of the
times, which was said to have been let loose by Werther; but
a personal peculiarity distinguished him from all the rest.
"WTiile they were undeniably frank and honest creatui'es, he had
a decided inclination to intrigue, and, indeed, to intrigue for its
own sake, mthout having in view any special object, any rea-
sonable, attainable, personal object. On the contrary, it was
always his custom to propose to himself something whimsical,
•which sers-ed. for that very reason, to keep him constantly occu-
pied. In this way aU his life long his imagination made him
play a false part; his love, as well as his hate, was imaginary;
he dealt with his thoughts and feelings in a Milfid. manner, so
as always to have something to do. He endeavom'cd to give
reality to his sjTnpathies and antipathies by the most perverse
means, and always himself destroyed his own work. Thus he
never benefited any one whom he loved, and never injured
any one whom he hated. In general he seemed to sin only to
punish himself, and to intrigue for no purpose but to graft a
new fable upon an old one.

His talent, in which tenderness, facility', and subtlety
rivalled each other, proceeded from a real depth, from an inex-
haustible creative power, but was thoroughly morbid with all
its beauty. Such qualities are precisely the most difficvüt to
judge. It is impossible to overlook great features in his
works — a lovely tenderness steals along through pieces of
caricature so odd and so silly that they can hardly be par-
doned, even in a hmnor so thorough and imassuming, and
such a genuine comic talent. His days were made up of mere
nothings, to which his nimble fancy coidd ever give a meaning,
and he was the better able to squander hom-s away, since, ^vith
a happy memory, the time which he did employ in reading,
was always fruitful, and emiched his original mode of thought
with various materials.

lENZ. 3

He liad been sent to Strasburg with some Livonian gentle-
men, and a more unfortunate choice of a Mentor could not
have been made. The elder baron went back for a time
to his native countrj-, and left behind him a lady to whom
he was tenderly attached. In order to keep at a distance the
second brother, who was paying comt to the same lady, as
well as other lovers, and to preserve the precious heart for his
absent fi-iend, Lenz determined either to feign that he had
fällen in love with the beauty, or if you please, actually to do so.
He carried through this plan with the most obstinate adhe-
rence to the ideal he had formed of her, without being aware
that he, as well as the others, only served her for jest and pas-
time. So much the better for him! For him, too, it was
nothing but a game which could only be kept up by her meeting
him in the same spirit, now attracting him, now repelling liim,
now encom-aging him, and now slighting him. We may be
sm-e that if he had become aware of the way the affair some-
times went on, he would, with gi-eat delight, have congratxilated
himself on the discovery.

As for the rest he, like his pupils, lived mostly with officers
of the garrison, and thus the sti-ange notions he afterwards
brought out in his comedy Die Soldaten{Th.e Soldiers) probably
originated. At any rate, this early acquaintance with military
men had on him the peculiar effect, that he forthwith fancied
himself a great judge of militaiy matters. And yet from time to
time he really studied the subject in detail with such effect,
that some years after^vard he prepared a long memorial to the
French Minister of War, from which he promised himself the
best results. The feults of the department were tolerably
well pointed out, but on the other hand, the remedies were
ridiculous and impracticable. However, he cherished a con-
viction that he should by this means gain great influence at
coiirt, and was anything but grateful to those of his friends
who, pai-tly by reasoning, and partly by active opposition,
compelled him to suppress, and afterwards to bm-n, this fan-
tastic work, after it had been fair-copied, put under cover with
a letter, and formally addi-essed.

First of all by word of mouth, and afterwards by letter, üe

had confided to me all the mazes of his tortuous movements

with regard to the lady above mentioned. The poetry which

he could infuse into the commonest incidents often astonished

B 2

4 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

me, so that I urged him to employ his talents in turning the
essence of this long-winded adventure to account, and to make
■a little romance out of it. But that was not in his line ; he
could only succeed when he poured himself out for ever upon
details, and span an endless thread without any piu-pose.
Perhaps it wüll be possible at a future time, to deduce from
these premises some account of his life up to the time that
he became a lunatic. At present I confine myself to what is
immediately connected with the subject in hand.

Hardly had Götz von Berlichingen appeared Avhen Lenz
-sent me a prolix essay written on small draught paper, such
as he commonly used, without leaving the least margin, either
at the top, the bottom, or the sides. It was entitled, Ueber
tinsere Ehe, (On our Marriage,) and were it still in exist-
ence, might enlighten us much more now than it then did me,
when I was as yet in the dark as to him and his character. The
, leading purpose of this long manuscript was to compare my
talent with his own: now he seemed to make himself inferior
to me, now to represent himself as my equal; but it was all
done with such humorous and neat turns of expression that I
gladly received the view he intended to convey, and all the more
so as I did, in fact, rate very high the gifts üe possessed, and
was always urging him to concentrate himself out of his aimless
rambling, and to use his natural capacities with some artistical
control. I replied in the most friendly way to this confiden-
tial communication, and as he had encouraged the greatest
intimacy between us, (as the wliimsical title indicates,) from
that time forward I made known to him everything I had
either finished or designed. In return he successively sent me
his manusci-ipts: Der Hofmeister, (Private Tutor.) Der neue
Menoza, (The New Menoza,) Die Soldaten, (The Soldiers,) the
imitations of l^lautus, and the translation from the English
which I have before spoken of as forming the supjjlenient to
his remarks on the theatre.

While reading the latter, I was somewhat struck to find him
-in a laconic preface speaking in such a way as to convey the
idea that this essay, which contained a vehement attack upon
the regular theatre, had, many years before, been read to a
society of the friends of literature at a time, in short, wher,
Götz was not yet written. That there should have been among
•Lenz's acquaintances at Strasbm-g a literaiy ciixle of which I

KI.TNGEK. ^

was ignorant seemed somewhat problematical ; however I let
it pass, and soon procured publishers for this and his other
^vritings, without having the least suspicion that he had se-
lected me as the cliief object of his fanciful hatred, and as the
mark of an odd and whimsical persecution.

In passing, I will, for the sake of the sequel, just mention
a good fellow, who. though of no extraordinary gifts, was
yet one of oui- number. He was called Wagner, and was l/'
first a member of om- Strasburg society and then of that at
Frankfort — a man not without spirit, talent, and education.
He appeared to be a stri%'ing sort of person, and was therefore
welcome. He, too, attached himself to me, and as I made no
secret of my plans, I shewed to him as well as others my
sketch of the Faust, especially the catastrophe of Gretchen.
He caiight up the idea and used it for a tragedy. Die Kindes- -^
mörderin, (The Infanticide.) It was the first time that any ^
one had stolen from me any of my plans. It vexed me, .
though I bore him no ill wall on that accoimt. Since then
I have often enough suffered such robberies and anticipations
of my thoughts, and with my dilatoriness and habit of gos-
sipping about the many things that I was ever planning and
imagining, I had no right to complain.

If on accomit of the great effect which contrasts produce,
orators and poets gladly make use of them even at the
expense of seeking them out and bringing them from a distance,. „
it must be the more agreeable to the present writer that such
a decided contrast presents itself, in his speaking of Klinger --
after Lenz. They were cotemporaries, and in youth labored,
together. But Lenz, as a transient meteor, passed biit for a., f
moment over the horizon of German literatm-e, and suddenly ,^
vanished without leaving any trace behind. Ivlinger, on the '
other hand, has maintained his position iip to the present j
time as an author of influence, and an active man of business.
Of him I will now speak, as far as it is necessary, Avithout
following any farther a comparison, which suggests itself; for
it has not been in secret that he has accomplished so much
and exercised so great an influence, but both his works and
his influence are still remembered, far and near, and are
highly esteemed and appreciated.

Klinger"s exterior, for I always like best to begin with .
this, was very prepossessing. Natm-e had given him a tall,.

6 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

slencfer, well-built form, and regular featm-es. He was careful
of his appearance, always dressed neatly, and might justly
have passed for the smartest member of oiu- little society.
His manners were neither forward nor repulsive, and when,
not agitated by an inward storm, mild and gentle.

In girls, \re love what they are, but in young men what
they promise to be, and thus I was Klinger's friend as soon as I
made his acquaintance. He recommended himself by a piire
good nature, and an immistakeable decision of character won
him confidence. From youth upward, everything had tended
^ to incline him to seriousness. Together mth a beautiful and
excellent sister, he had to provide for a mother, who in her
•\vido\vhood had need of such children for her support. He
had made himself everything that he was, so that no one
could find faiüt with a trait of proud independence which
was apparent in his bearing. Strong natural talents, such as
are common to all well-endowed men, a facile power of appre-
hension, an excellent memory, and great fluency of speech,
he possessed in a high degree ; but he appeared to regard all
these as of less value than the fii-mness and perseverance
which were likewise innate with him, and which circimistances
had abundantly strengthened.

To a young man of such a character, the works of Rousseau
N "vere especially attractive. Emile was his chief text-book, and
its sentiments, as they had an universal influence over the cul-
tivated world, were peculiarly fniitfiü with him. and influenced
him more than others. For he too was a child of nature,—
he too had worked his way upwards. What others had been
compelled to cast away, he had never possessed; relations
of society from which they would have to emancipate them-
selves, had never fettered him. Thus might he be regarded as
">■ one of the purest disciples of that gospel of nature, and in view
of his own persevering efforts and his conduct as a man and
son, he might well exclaim, "All is good as it comes from the
hands of natirre!" But the conclusion, "All is coiTupted in
the hands of man!" was also forced upon him by adverse
experience. It was not with himself that he had to struggle,
but beyond and out of himself with the conventional world,
from whose fetters the Citizen of Geneva designed to set us
free. And as from the circumstances of his youth the struggle
he had to undergo had often been difficult and painful, he had

KlilNGEE. 7

been driven back upon himself too violently to attain a
thoroughly serene and joyous development. On the contrary,
as he had had to force his way against an opposing world, a
trait of bitterness had crept into his character, which he after-
waids in some degree fed and cherished, but for the most part
strove against and conquered.

His works, as fai* as I am able to recall them, bespeak a
strong miderstanding, an upright mind, an active imagination,
a ready perception of the varieties of human nature, and a
characteristic imitation of generic differences. His girls and
boys are open and amiable, his youths ardent, his men plain
and inteUigent, the personages whom he paints in an un-
favorable Hght are not overdrawn ; he is not wanting in cheer-
fulness and good humour, in wit and happy notions ; allegories
and symbols are at his command : he can entertain and please
us, and the enjoyment Avould be still purer if he did not here
and there mar both for himself and us, his gay, pointed jesting
by a touch of bitterness. Yet this it is which makes him
what he is. The modes of living and of MTiting become as
varied as they are, from the fact that every one wavers theoreti-
cally between knowledge and en'or, and practically between
creation and destruction.

Klinger should be classed with those who have formed them-
selves for the world, out of themselves, out of their o\vn souls
and understandings. Because this takes place in and among a
greater mass, and because among themselves they use with
power and eifect. an intelligible language flowing out of uni-
versal nature and popular peculiarities, such men always cherish
a wann hostil^t^' to all forms of the schools, especially if these
forms, separated from their H-s-ing origin, have degenerated
into phi-ases, and have thus lost altogether ihvix fii-st, fresh
significance. Such men almost invariably declare war against
new opinions, views, and systems, as well as against new events
and rising men of importance who annoujice or produce great
«hanges. They are however not so much to blame on this
account ; their opposition is not unnatural when they see all
that which they are indebted to for their own existence and
culture menaced with ruin and in o:reat dangler.

In an energetic character this adherence to its ovm views
becomes the more worthy of respect when it has been main-
tained thi-oughout a life in the world and in atfaii-s, and when

;/

8 TRtTTH AND POETRY; FROIM MY OWN LITE.

a mode of dealing w-ith current events, which to many might
seem rough and arbitrary, being employed at the right time,
has led surely to the desired end. This was the case with
Klinger ; without pliability (which was never the virtue of the
born citizen of the empire,*) he had nevertheless risen, steadily,
and honorably, to posts of great importance, had managed to
maintain his position, and as he advanced in the approbation
and favor of his highest patrons, never forgot his old friends, or
the path he had left behind. Indeed, through all degrees of ab-
sence and separation, he laboured pertinaciously to preserve the
most complete constancy of remembrance, and it certainly de-
serves to be remarked that in his coat of amis though adorned
by the badges of several orders, he, like another Wüligis, did
not disdain to perpetuate the tokens of his early life.

It was not long before I formed a connection with Lava-
TER. Passages of my '' Letter of a Pastor to his Colleagues"
had greatly struck him, for much of it agreed perfectly with
his own views. "With his never-tiring acti'S'ity our corres-
pondence soon became lively. At the time it commenced he-
was making preparations for his larger work on Physiognomy,
—the introduction to which had already been laid before the
public. He called on all the world to send him drawings
and outhnes, and especially representations of Christ; and,
although I could do as good as nothing in this way, he
nevertheless insisted on my sending him a sketch of the
Saviom- such as I imagined him to look. Such demands for
the impossible gave occasion for jests of many kinds, for I
had no other Avay of defending myself against his pecuharities
but by bringing forward ray o^^^l.

The number of those M'ho had no faith in Physiognomy, or,
at least, regarded it as uncertain and deceitful, was very great;
and several who had a liking for Lavater felt a desire to try
him, and, if possible, to play him a trick. He had ordered of
a painter in Frankfort, who was not without talent, the profiles
of several well known persons. LaA'ater's agent ventured upon
the jest of sending Bahrdt"s portrait as mine, which soon
brought back a merry but thimdering epistle, full of all kinds
of expletives and asseverations that this was not my picture, —
together with everything that on such an occasion Lavater
would naturally have to say in confirmation of the doctrine of'
* That is to say, a native of one of the Imperial cities.

lATATER. 9

Physiognomy. My true likeness, which was sent afterwards,
he allowed to pass more readily, but even here the opposition
into which he fell both with painters and ^^-ith individuals
showed itself at once. The former could never work for him
faithfully and sufficiently ; the latter, whatever excellences they
might have, came always too far short of the idea which he
entertained of humanity and of men to prevent his being some-
what repelled by the special characteristics which constitute
the personality of the individual.

The conception of Humanity which had been fonned in
himself and in his o'mi humanitA-, was so completely akin to-
the living image of Chi-ist which he cherished within him,
that it was impossible for him to understand how a man could
live and breathe "s^dthout at the same time being a Christian.
Mv own relation to the Christian religion lay merely in my
sense and feeling, and I had not the slightest notion of that
physical affinity to which Lavater inclined. I was, therefore,
vexed by the importunity, with which a man so full of mind
and heart, attacked me, as well as Mendelssohn and others,
maintaining that everv* one must either become a Christian
with him, a Christian of his sort, or else that one must bring
him over to one's own way of thinking, and convince him of
precisely that in which one had found peace. This demand,
so directly opposed to that liberal spirit of the world, to which
I was moi-e and more tending, did not have the best eifect upon
me. All misuccessful attempts at conversion leave him who has-
been selected for a proselyte stubborn and obdurate, and this
was especially the case with me when Lavater at last came
out ^^■ith the hard dilemma — " Either Christian or Atheist!"
Upon this I declared that if he would not leave me my own
Christianity as I had hitherto cherished it, I could readily
decide for Atheism, particularly as I saw that nobody knew
precisely what either meant.

This correspondence, vehement as it was, did not disturb
the good tenns we were on. Lavater had an incredible
patience, pertinacity, and endm-ance ; he was confident in his
theorj', and, with his determined plan to propagate his con-
victions in the world, he was willing by waiting and mild-
ness to efiect what he coidd not accomplish by force. In
short, he belonged to the few fortiuiate men whose outward
vocation perfectly harmonizes with the inner one, and whose

10 TKUTH AND POETRY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE.

earliest culture coinciding in all points with their subsequent
pursuits, gives a natural development to their faculties.
Born with the most delicate moral susceptibilities, he had
chosen for himself the clerical profession. He received the
necessary instruction, and displayed various talents, but with-
out inclining to that degree of culture which is called learned.
He also, though bom so long before, had, like om'selves, been
caught by the spirit of Freedom and Natm-e which belonged to
the time, and which whispered flatteringly in eveiy ear, " You
have materials and sohd power enough within yourself, without
much outward aid; all depends upon your developing them
properly." The obligation of a clergyman to work upon men
morally, in the ordmary sense, and religiously in the higher
sense, fully coincided with his mental tendencies. His marked
impulse, even as a youth, was to impart to others, and to excite
in them, his own just and pious sentiments, and his favorite oc-
cupation was the observation of himself and of his feUow-men.
The former was facilitated, if not forced upon him, by an in-
ternal sensitiveness ; the latter by a keen glance, Avhich could
quickly read the outward expression. Still, he was not bom
for contemplation ; properly speaking, the gift of convepng his
ideas to others was not his. He felt himself rather, with aU
his powers, impelled to activity , to action; and I have never
\ kno^\Ti any one who was more unceasingly active than Lavater.
But because our inward moral nature is incorpoiTited in out-
ward conditions, whether we belong to a family, a class, a guud,
a cit)', or a state, he was obliged, in his desire to influence
others, to come into contact with all these external things, and
to set them in motion. Hence arose many a collision, many
^ an entanglement, especially as the commonwealth of which he
"^ was by birth a member enjoyed, under the most precise and
accurately-defined limits, an admirable hereditary freedom.
The republican from his boyhood is accustomed himself to think
and to converse on public afiairs. In the first bloom of his life
the youth sees the period approaching when, as a member of a
free corporation, he will have a vote to give or to withhold. If
he wishes to form a just and independent judgment, he must,
before aU things, convince himself of the worth of his fellow
citizens; he must learn to know them; he must inquire into
their sentiments and their capacities ; and thus, in aiming to
read others, he becomes intimate with his own bosom.

lATATEK. H

Under such cu-cumstances Larater was early ti-ained, and
this business of life seems- to hare occupied him more than the
study of languages and the analytic criticism, which is not only
alUed to that study, but is its foimdation as ■well as its aim. In
later yeai-s. when his attainments and his views had reached a
boundless comprehensiveness, he frequently said, both in jest
and in seriousness, that he was not a learned man. It is pre-
cisely to this want of deep and soHd learning, that we must
ascribe the fact that he adhered to the letter of the Bible, and
even to the translation, and found in it nourishment, and
assistance enough for aU that he sought and designed.

Very soon, however, this circle of action in a corporation
or guild, with its slow movement, became too narrow for the
quick natui-e of its occupant. For a youth to be upright is
not difficult, and a pure conscience revolts at the wrong of
which it is stül innocent. The oppressions of a bailiff [Land-
logf lay plain before the eyes of the citizens, but it was by
no means easy to bring them to justice. Lavater ha%dng as-
sociated a friend with himself, anonymously threatened the
guilty bailiff. The matter became notorious, and an investiga-
tion was rendered necessary. The criminal was ptmished. but
the prompters of this act of justice were blamed if not abused.
In a well ordered state even the right must not be brought
about in a wrong way.

On a torn- which Lavater now made through Germany, he
came into contact with educated and right-thinking men ; but
that sei-ved only to confirm his previous thoughts and convic-
tions, and on his return home he worked from his o'wn re-
soiu*ces with greater freedom than ever. A noble and good
man, he was conscious within himself of a lofty conception of
humanit}', and whatever in experience contradicts such a con-
ception,— all the imdeniable defects which remove eveiy one
from perfection, he reconciled by his idea of the Divinity Avhich
in the midst of ages came down into human nature in order
completely to restore its earher image.

So much by way of preface on the tendencies of this emi-
nent man ; and now before all things, for a bright picture of
our meeting and personal intercourse. Our correspondence
had not long been carried on, when he annotmced to me and
to others, that in a voyage up the Rhine winch he was about
to undertake, he would soon >4sit Frankfort. Immediately

12 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FKOM MY OWN LIFE.

J ^ there arose a crreat excitement in our world : all were curious
to see so remarkable a person; many hoped to profit by
him in the way of moral and religioiLS culture : the sceptics
prepared to distinguish themselves by grave objections; the
conceited felt sure of entangling and confounding him by
arguments in Avhich they had strengthened themselves, — in
short, there was everything, there was all the favor and dis-
favor, which awaits a distinguished man who intends to meddle
with this motley world.

Our first meeting was heart;\-; we embraced each other
in the most friendly way, and I found him just like what I
had seen in many portraits of him. I saw living and active
before me, an indi^-idual quite unique, and distingui.shed in a
way that no one had seen before or will see again. Lavater,
on the contrary, at the first moment, betrayed by some pecu-
liar exclamations, that I was not what he had expected.
Hereupon, I assured him, with the realism which had been
born in me, and which I had cultivated, that as it had pleased
God and natiu-e to make me in that fasliion we must rest
content with it. The most important of the points on which
in our letters we had been far from agreeing, became at
once subjects of conversation, but we had not time to discuss
them thoroughly, and something occurred to me that I had
never before experienced.

The rest of us whenever we wish to speak of affairs of the
soul and of the heart, were wont to withdraw from the crowd,
and even from all society, because in the many modes of
thinking, and the different degrees of culture among men, it
is difficult to be on an understanding even with a few. But
Lavater was of a wholly different turn ; he liked to extend his
i influence as far as possible, and was not at ease except in a
crowd, for the instruction and entertainment of which he pos-
sessed an especial talent, based on his great skill in physiog-
nomy. He had a wonderful facility of discriminating persons
and minds, by which he quickly understood the mental state
of all around him. Whenever therefore tliis judgment of men
was met by a sincere confession, a true-hearted inquiry, he was
able, from the abundance of his internal and external experi-
ence, to satisfy every one with an appropriate answer. The
deep tenderness of his look, the marked sweetness of his lips,
and even the honest Swiss dialect which was heard through his

LAVATEE. 13

High German, with many other things that distinguished him,
immediately placed all whom he addressed quite at their ease.
Even the slight stoop in his carriage, together with his rather
hollow chest, contributed not a little to balance in the eyes of
the remainder of the company the weight of his commanding
presence. Towards presumption and arrogance he knew how
to demean himself Avith calmness and address, for while seem-
ing to yield he woidd suddenly bring forward, Like a diamond-
shield, some grand view, of which his narrow-minded opponent
would never have thoiight, and at the same time he would so
agreeably moderate the light which flowed from it, that such
men felt themselves instructed and conA-inced, — so long at least
as they were in his presence. Perhaps with many the impres-
sion continued to operate long afterwards, for even conceited
men are also kindly ; it is only necessary by gentle influences
to soften the hard shell which encloses the fruitful kernel.

WTiat caused him the greatest pain was the presence of
persons whose outward ugliness must irrevocably stamp them /
decided enemies of his theory as to the significance of forms.
They conmionly employed a considerable amount of common
sense and other gifts and talents, in vehement hostility and
paltry doubts, to weaken a doctrine which appeared ofiensive
to their self-love ; for it was not easy to find any one so mag-
nanimous as Socrates, who interpreted his faun-like exterior in
favour of an acquired morality. To Lavater the hardness, the
obduracy of such antagonists was horrible, and his opposition
was not free from passion ; just as the smelting fire must attack
the resisting ore as something troublesome and hostile.

In such a case a confidential conversation, such as might
appeal to our own cases and experience, Avas not to be thought
of; however I was much instructed by observing the manner
in which he treated men, — instructed, I say, not improved by
it, for my position was whoUy difierent from his. He that
works morally loses none of his efibrts, for there comes from
them much more fruit than the parable of the Sower too
modestly represents. But he whose labours are artistic, fails
utterly in every work that is not recognised as a work of art.
From this it may be judged how impatient my dear sympa-
thizing readers were accustomed to make me, and for what
reasons I had such a great dislike to come to an understanding
with them. I now felt but too vindly the difference between

14 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

the effectiveness of my labors and those of Lavater. His pre-
vailed, while he was present, mine, when I was absent. Every
one who at a distance was dissatisfied with him became his
friend when they met, and every one who, judging by my work,
considered me amiable, fomid himself gi'eatly deceived when
he came in contract with a man of coldness and reserve.

Merk, who had just come over from Darmstadt, played the
part of Mephistopheles, especially ridiciding the importuni-
ties of the women. As some of these were closely examining
the apartments wliich had been set apart for the prophet,
and, above all, his bed-chamber, the wag said that "the
pious souls wished to see where they had laid the Lord."
Nevertheless he, as well as the others, was forced to let
himself be exorcised. Lips, who accompanied Lavater, di-ew
his profile as completely and successfully as he did those of
other men, both important and imimportant, who were to be
heaped together in the great work on Physiognomy.

For myself, Lavater' s society was highly influential and in-
structive, for his pressing incitements to action set my cahn,
artistic, contemplative nature into motion, not indeed to any
advantage at the moment, because the circumstances did but in-
crease the distraction which had ah-eady laid hold of me. Still,
so many things were talked abovit between us, as to give rise to
the most earnest desire on my part to prolong the discussion.
Accordingly I determined to accompany him if he went to Ems,
so that, shut up in the carnage and separated from the world,
we might freely go over those subjects which lay nearest to
both oiur hearts.

Meanwhile the conversations between Lavater and Fraidein
Von Klettenberg were to me exceedingly interesting and
profitable. Here two decided Christians stood in contrast to
tach other, and it was quite plain how the same beUef may take
a different shape according to the sentiments of different per-
son^. In those tolerant times it was often enough repeated that
every man had his own religion and his owti mode of worship.
Although I did not maintain this exactly, I could, in the pre-
sent case, perceive that men and women need a different
Saviour. Fräulein Von Klettenberg looked towards hers as
to a lover to whom one yields oneself without reserve, con-
centrating all joy and hope on him alone, and without doubt
or hesitation confiding to him the destiny of life. Lavater,

PAITH AND KNOAVXEDGE. 15

on the other hand, treated his as a Mend, to be imitated
lovingly and without envy, whose merits he recognised and
valued highly, and whom, for that very reason, he sti-ove to
copy and even to equal. WTiat a difference between these
two tendencies, which in general exhibit the spirtual ne-
cessities of the two sexes ! Hence we may perhaps explain
the fact that men of more deHcate feeling have so often turned
to the Mother of God as a paragon of female beauty and virtue,
and like Sannazaro, have dedicated to her their lives and talents,
occasionally condescending to play with the DiA-ine Infant.

How my two friends stood to each other, and how they felt
towards each other, I gathered not only from conversations at
which I was present, but also from revelations which both
made to me in private. I could not agree entirely with either; ,
for my Christ had also taken a form of his own, in accordance
with my views. Because they would not allow mine to pass at
aU, I teased them with all sorts of paradoxes and exaggera-
tions, and, when they got impatient, left them with a jest.

The contest between knowledge and faith was not yet the
order of the day, but the two words and the ideas connected
with them occasionally came forward, and the true haters of the
world maintained that one was as Httle to be relied on as the
other. Accordingly I took pleasure in declai-ing in favour of
both, though without being able to gain the assent of my friends.
In Faith, I said, everything depends on the fact of believing ;
what is believed is perfectly indifferent. Faith is a profound ^
sense of secvirity for the present and future, and this assurance
springs from confidence in an immense, all-powerful, and in-
scnitable Being. The firmness of this confidence is the one
grand point ; but what we think of this Being depends on our
other faculties, or even on circumstances, and is wholly
indifferent. Faith is a holy vessel into which every one
stands ready to pour his feelings, his imderstanding, his
imagination as perfectly as he can. "With Knowledge it is \/^
directly the opposite. There the point is not whether we
know, but what we know, how much we know, and how well
we know it. Hence it comes that men may dispute about
knowledge because it can be corrected, widened, and con-
ti-acted. Knowledge begins with the particular, is endless
and formless, can never be all comprehended, or at least but
dreamily, and thus remains exactly the opposite of Faith.

16 TEUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN LIFE.

Half truths of tliis kind, and the errors which arise from
them may, Avhen poetically exhibited, be exciting and enter-
taining, but in life they disturb and confuse conversation.
- For that reason I was glad to leave Lavater alone with all
those who wished to be edified by him and through him, a
deprivation for which I found myself fvilly compensated by
the journey we made together to Ems. Beautiful summer
weather attended vis, and Lavater was gay and most amiable.
For though of a religious and moral turn, he was by no means
narrow-minded, and was not unmoved when by the events of life
those around him were excited to cheerfulness and gaiety. He
was sjTiipathizing, spirited, witty, and liked the same qualities
in others, provided that they were kept within the bounds which
his delicate sense of propriety prescribed. If any one ventured
iurther he used to clap him on the shoulder, and by a hearty
'■'Bisch guetr' wovild call the rash man back to good manners.
This journey afforded me instruction and inspiration of many
kinds, which, however, contributed to a knowledge of his cha-
racter rather than to the government and culture of my own. At
Ems I saw liim once again, surroimded by society of eveiy sort,
and I went back to Frankfort, because my little affairs were in
such a state that I coidd scarcely absent myself from them at all.

But I was not destined to be restored so speedily to repose.
Basedow now came in to attract me, and touch me on
another side. A more decided contrast coidd not be found
than that between these two men. A single glance at
Basedow showed the difference. Lavater"s featiu-es displayed
themselves with openness to the observer, but those of
Basedow were crowded together and as it were drawn
inward. Lavater's eye, beneath a very wide eyelid, was clear
and expressive of piety; Basedow's was deep in his head,
small, black, sharp, gleaming from imder bristly brows, while
on the contraiy, Lavater's fi'ontal bone was edged with,
two arches of the softest brown hair. Basedow's strong,
rough voice, quick, sharp expressions, a kind of sarcastic
laugh, a rapid change of subjects in conversation, with
other peculiarities, were all the opposite of the qualities and
manners by which Lavater had spoiled us. Basedow was
also much sought after in Frankfort, and his great talents were
admired, but he was not the man either to edify souls or to
lead them. His sole office ■svas to give a better cultivation to

BASEDOW. 17

the wide field he had marked out for himself, so that
Hmnanity might afterwards take up its dwelling in it Avith
greater ease and accordance with nature ; but to this end he
hastened even too directly.

I could not altogether acquiesce in his plans, or even get a
clear understanding of his \-iews. I was of com-sc pleased
with his desire of making all instruction living aud natural ;
his wish, too, that the ancient languages shoiüd be practised
on present objects, appeared to me laudable, and I gladly
acknowledged all that in his project, tended to the promotion
of activity and a fi-esher A-iew of the world. But I was dis-
pleased that the illusti-ations of his elementary- work, Avere
even more distracting than its subjects, whereas in the
actual world, possible things alone stand together, and for
that reason, in spite of all variety and apparent confusion, the
world has still a regularity in all its parts. Basedow's elemen-
tary work, on the contran,% sunders it completely, inasmuch
as thmgs which in the world never are combined, are here
put together on account of the association of ideas; and
consequently, the book is without even those palpable metho-
dical advantages which we must acknowledge in the similar
work of Amos Comenius.

But the conduct of Basedow was much more sti'ange aud -^
difficult to comprehend than his doctrine. The purpose of
his journey was, by personal influence, to interest the public
in his philanthropic enterprise, and, indeed, to open not only
hearts but purses. He had the power of speaking grandly
and con\-incingly of his scheme, and every one willingly
conceded what he asserted. But in a most inexplicable way
he pained the feelings of the verj- men whose assistance
he wished to gain; nay, he outraged them unnecessarily, '
through his inability to keep back his opinions and fancies
on religious subjects. In this respect, too, Basedow appeared
the ver\' opposite of Lavater. While the latter received
the Bible literally, and with its whole contents, as being
word for word in force, and applicable even at the present
day, the former had the most unquiet itching to renovate
everj'thing, and to remodel both the doctrines and the cere-
monies of the church in conformity' with some odd notions
of his own. ^Most imprudently he showed no mercy to those
conceptions which come not immediately from the Bible, but
Vol. II. c

18 TKUTH AND POETKY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

from its interpretation ; — all those expressions, technical
philosophical terms, or sensible figures, with which Coimcils
and Fathers of the chvu'ch had sought to explain the inex-
pressible, or to confute heretics. In a harsh and unwar-
rantable way, and before all alike, he declared himself the swoni
enemy of the Trinity, and would never desist from arguing
against this universally admitted mysteiy. I, too, had to
suffer a good deal from this kind of entertainment in private
conversation, and was compelled again and again to Usten to
his tirades about the Hyjwstasis and Ousia, as well as the
Prosopon. To meet them all I had recom-se to the weapons
of paradox, and soaring even above the flight of his opinions,
ventm-ed to oppose his rash assertions with something rasher
of my own. This gave a new excitement to my mind, and
as Basedow was much more extensively read, and had more
skiU in the fencing tricks of disputation than a follower of
nature like myself, I had always to exert myself the more,
the more important were the points which were discussed
between us.

Such a splendid opportunity to exercise, if not to enlighten
my mind, I coiüd not allow to pass away in a huny. I pre-
vailed on my father and friends to manage my most pressing
affah's, and now set off again from Frankfort in the company
of Basedow. But what a difference did I feel when I recalled
the gentle spirit which breathed from Lavater ! Pm'e him-
self, he created around him a pure circle. At his side one
f became like a maiden, for fear of presenting before him any-
thing repulsive. Basedow, on the contrary, being altogether
absorbed in himself, could not pay any attention to his
external appearance. His ceaseless smoking of \sTetched
tobacco was of itself extremely disagreeable, especially as
his pipe was no sooner out, than he brought forth a dirtily
prepared kind of tinder, which took fire quickly, but had a
most horrid stench, and every time poisoned the afr insuffer-
ably with the fii'st whiff. I caUed this preparation " The
Basedo\-ian SmeUfungus," (Stink-schwamm) and declared that
it ought to be introduced into Natui-al History under this
name. This greatly amused him, and to my disgust he
minutely explained the hated preparation, taking a malicious
pleasure in my aversion from it. It was one of the deeply
rooted, disagreeable peculiarities of this admirably gifted man

BASEDOW 19

that he was fond of teasing, and would sting the most dis-
passionate persons. He could never see any one quiet, but
he provoked him with mocking irony, in a hoarse voice, or
put him to confusion by an unexpected question, and laughed
bitterly when he had gained his end ; yet he Mas pleased when
the object of his jests was quick enough to collect himself,
and gave him a retort.

How much greater was now my longhig for Lavater. He,
too, seemed to be rejoiced when he saw me again, and confided
to me much that he had learned, especially in reference to the
various characters of his fellow-guests, among whom he had
already succeeded in making many friends and disciples. For
piy part I found here several old acquaiutanccs, and in those
whom I had not seen for many years, I began to notice
what in youth long remains concealed from us, namely, that
men grow old and women change. The company became
more numerous every day. There was no end to the dancing,
and, as in the two principal bath-houses, people came into
pretty close contact, the familiarity led to many a practical
joke. Once I disguised myself as a -sillage clergyman, while
an intimate friend took the character of his wife ; by our
excessive and troublesome politeness, we were tolerably
amusing to the elegant society, and so put every one into
good humor. Of serenades at evening, midnight and morning,
there was no lack, and we juniors enjoyed but little sleep.

To make up for these dissipations, I always passed a part
of the night with Basedow. He never went to bed, but
dictated without cessation. Occasionally he cast himself on
the couch and slumbered, while his amanuensis sat quietly,
pen in hand, ready to continue his work when the half
awakened author shoidd once again give fr-ee course to his
thoughts. All this took place in a close confined chamber,
filled with the fumes of tobacco and the odious tinder. As
often as I was disengaged fr-om a dance, I hastened up to
Basedow, who was ready at once to speak and dispute on any
question ; and when after a time, I hmnied again to the
ball-room, before I had closed the door behind me, he woidd
resume the thread of his essay as composedly as if he had
been engaged with nothing else.

We also made together many excursions into the neigh-
borhood, visiting the chateaux, especially those of noble ladies,

c 2

20 TKÜTH AND POETKY; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

who were everywhere more incHned than the men, to receive
anj-thing that made a pretence to intellect and talent. At
Nassau, at the house of Frau von Stein, a most estimable
lady, who enjoyed universal respect, we found a large com-
pany. Frau von Laroche was likewise present, and there
was no lack of young ladies and children. Here Lavater was
doomed to be put to many a physiognomical temptation,
which consisted mainly in our seeking to palm upon him the
accidents of cultivation as original forms, but his eye was too
sure to be deceived. I, too, was called on as much as ever
to maintain the truth of the Sorrows of Werther, and to name
the residence of Charlotte, a desire which I declined to gra-
tify, not in the politest manner. On the other hand I col-
lected the children around me in order to tell them very
wonderful stories, all about well known things, in which I
had the great advantage, that no member of my circle of
hearers could ask me with any importunity what part was
truth and what fiction.

Basedow affii-med that the only thing necessary was a better
education of youth, and to promote this end he called upon
the higher and wealthy classes for considerable contributions.
But hardly had his reasoning and his impassioned eloquence
excited, not to say, won to his purpose, the sympathy of his
auditors, when the evil anti-trinitarian spirit came upon him,
so that without the least sense of where he was, he broke forth
into the strangest discourses, Avhich in his own opinion were
highly religious, but according to the convictions of those
around him highly blasphemous. All sought a remedy for
this evil; Lavater, by gentle seriousness, I, by jests, leading
off from the subject, and the ladies by amusing Avalks, but
harmony could not be restored. A Christian conversation,
such as had been expected from the presence of Lavater, a
discourse on education, such as had been anticipated from
Basedow, and a sentimental one, for which it was thought
I should be ready — all were at once disturbed and destroyed.
On our return home, Lavater reproached him, but I punished
him in a humorous way. The weather was warm, and
the tobacco-smoke had perhaps contributed to the dry-
ness of Basedow's palate ; he was dying for a glass of beer,
and seeing a tavern at a distance on the road, he eagerly
ordered the coachman to stop there. But just as he was

BASEDOW AND LATATEK. 21

/ii'iving up to the door, I called out to him loudly and impe-
riously, "Go on!"' Basedow, taken by siu'prise, could hardly
get the contrary command out of his husky voice. I urged
the coachman more vehemently, and he obeyed me. Basedow
cm'sed me, and was ready to fall on me with his fists, but I
replied to him with the greatest composure, " leather, bo
quiet! You ought to thank me. Luckily you didn't see
the beer-sign ! It was two triangles put together across each
other. Now you commonly get mad about one triangle, and
if you had set eyes on two, we should have had to get
jou a strait jacket." This joke threw him into a fit of im-
moderate laughter, in the intervals of which he scolded and
cursed me, while Lavater exercised his patience on both the
young fool and the old one.

When in the middle of Jidy, Lavater was preparing to
dcjjart, Basedow thought it advantageous to join him, while I
had become so accustomed to this rare society that I could not
bring myself to give it up. We had a delightful journey
<lown the Lahn; it was refreshing alike to heart and senses.
At the sight of an old ruined castle, I wrote the song " Hoch
auf dem alten Thurme stehV (High on the ancient Turret
stands), in Lips's Album, and as it was weU received, I
wrote, after my evil habit, all kinds of doggi'el rhymes
and comicalities on the succeeding pages, in order to
destroy the impression. I rejoiced to see the magnificent
Rhine once more, and was delighted Avith the astonish-
ment of those who had never before enjoyed this splendid
spectacle. We landed at Coblentz ; wherever we went, the
crowd Avas very great, and each of the three excited interest
^nd curiosity. Basedow and I seemed to strive Avhich could
behave most outrageously. Lavater conducted himself rati-
onally and with judgment, only he could not conceal his
favorite opinions, and thus with the best designs he appeared
very odd to all men of mediocrity.

I have preserved the memory of a strange dinner at a hotel
in Coblentz, in some doggrel rhymes, which Avill, perhaps,
stand with all their kindred m my New Edition. I sat
between Lavater and Basedow; the first Avas instructing a
country parson on the mysteries of tiie Revelation of St. John,
and the other Avas in A^ain endcavour;ng to proA^e to an
■obstinate dancing master, that baptism Avas an obsolete usage

22 TRUTH AND POETKY; from my own LIFE.

not calculated for our times. As we were going on to
Cologne, L -ATote in an Album —

As though to Emmaus, on their ride

Storming they might be seen;
The pi-ophets sat on either side,

The world-child sat between.

Lucidly this world-child had also a side which was turned
towards the heavenly, and which was now to be moved in a
way wholly peculiar. 'SMiile in Ems I had rejoiced to hear
that in Cologne we should find the brothers Jacobi, who with
other eminent men had set out to meet and show attention to
our two remarkable travellers. On my part, I hoped for for-
giveness from them for sundry little improprieties which had
originated in the great love of mischief that Herder's keen
humor had excited in us. The letters and poems in which
Gleim and George Jacobi publicly rejoiced in each other, had
given us opportunity for all sorts of sport, and we had not
reflected that there is just as much self-conceit in giving pain
to others when they are comfortable, as in showing an excess
of kindness to oneself or to one's friends. By this means, a
certain dissension had arisen between the Upper and Lower
Rhine, of so slight importance, however, that mediation was
easy. For this the ladies were particularly adapted. Sophia
Laroche had abeady given us the best idea of the noble
brothers. Mademoiselle Fahlmer, who had come to Frankfort
from Düsseldorf, and who was intimate with theii* circle, by
the great tenderness of her sympathies, and the uncommon
ciütivation of her mind, furnished an evidence of the worth of
the society in which she had grown up. She gradually put
us to shame by her patience with om- harsh Upper Saxon
manner, and taught us forbearance by letting us feel that we
ourselves stood in need of it. The true-heartedness of the
younger sister of the Jacobis, the gaiety of the wife of Fritz
Jacobi, turned our minds and eyes more and more to these
regions. The latter was qualified to captivate me entirely ;
possessed of a correct feeling without a trace of sentimen-
tality, and Avith a lively way of speaking, she was a fine
Netherlands' woman, Avho without any expression of sensu-
ality, by her robust nature called to mind the women of
Rubens. Both these ladies, in longer and shorter \asits at

THE BKOTHEES JACOBI. 23

Frankfort, had formed the closest alliance with my sister, and
had expanded and enlivened the severe, stiif, and somewhat
loveless natm-e of Cornelia. Thus Düsseldorf and Pempelfort
had interested oui- minds and hearts, even in Frankfort.

Accordingly om* first meeting in Cologne was at once frank
and confidential, for the good opinion of the ladies had not
been without its influence at home. I was not now treated,
as hitherto on the joui'ney. as the mere misty tail of the two
great comets; aU aroimd paid me particular attention, and
showed me abundant kindiiess, which they also seemed in-
clined to receive fi-om me in retm-n. I was weary of my
previous follies and impertinences, behind which, in truth, I
only hid my impatience, to find duriug the journey so little
care taken to satisfy my heart and soid. Hence, what was
within me, bui-st out like a torrent, and this is perhaps the
reason why I recollect so little of individual events. The
thoughts we have had, the pictures we have seen, can be
again called up before the mind and the imagination ; but the
heart is not so complaisant ; it will not repeat its agreeable
emotions. And least of all are we able to recall moments
of enthusiasm ; they come upon us unprepared, and we yield
to them unconsciously. For this reason, others, who observe
us at such moments have a better and clearer insight into what
passes within us, than we ourselves.

Rehgious conversations I had hitherto gently declined; to
plain questions, I had not imfi-equcntly replied with harshness,
because they seemed to me too narrow in comparison with
what I sought. "NMien any one wished to force upon me his
sentiments and opinions of my compositions, but especially
when I was afflicted with the demands of common sense, and
people told me decidedly what I ought to have done or left
\mdone, I got out of all patience, and the conversation broke
off, or crumbled to pieces, so that no one went awav with a
particularly good opinion of me. It would have been much
more natm-al to make myself gentle and friendlj*, but my
feelings would not be schooled. They needed to be expanded
by free good will and to be moved to a suiTcnder bv sincere
sympathy. One feeling which prevailed gi-eatly with me,
and could never find an expression odd enough for itself,
was a sense of the past and present together in one ; a
phenomenon which brought something spectral into the pre-

24 TRUTH AXD POETRY; FROM MY OAVN LIFE.

sent. It is expressed, in maaiy of my smaller and larger
■works, and always has a beneficial influence in a poem,
though, Avhencver it began to mix itself up with actual life, it
must have api)eared to every one strange, inexplicable, per-
haps gloomy.

Cologne was the place where antiquity had such an incal-
cidable effect upon me. The ruins of the Cathedral (for an
imfinished work is like one destroyed) called up the emotions
to which I had been accustomed at Strasburg. Aalistic
-considerations were out of the question, ; too much and too
little was given me ; and there was no one who could help me
out of the labp-inth of what was performed and what was
proposed, of the fact and the plan, of what was built and
what was only designed, as om* industrious, persevering
friends nowadays are ready to do. In company with others
I did indeed admire its wonderful chapels and columns, but
when alone I always gloomily lost myself in this world-edifice,
thus checked in its creation while far from complete. Here,
too, was a great idea never realized ! It w^ould seem, indeed,
as if the architecture were there only to convince us that by
many men, in a series of years, nothing can be accomplished,
and that in art and in deeds only that is achieved which, like
Minerva, springs full-grown and armed from the head of its
inventor. *

At these moments, which oppressed more than they cheered
my heart, I little thought that the tenderest and fairest
emotion was in store for me near at hand. I was persuaded
to visit Jappach's house, and here all that I had been wont to
form for myself in my mind came actually and sensibly
before my eyes. This family had probably long ago become
extinct, but on the ground floor which opened upon a garden,
we found everything unchanged. A pavement of brownish
red tiles, of a rhomboidal form regularly laid, carved phairs
with embroidered seats and high backs, flap-tables, metal
chandeliers curiously inlaid, on heavy feet, an immense fire-
place with its appropriate utensils, everything in harmony
with those early times, and in the whole room nothing new,
.nothing belonging to the present but ourselves. But what
more than all heightened and completed the emotions thus
strangely excited, was a large fiimily picture over the fire-
place. There sat the former wealthy inhabitant of this abode

FKITZ JACOB!. 25

surrounded by his \A'ife and children, — there were they in all
the freshness of life, and as if of yesterday, or rather of
to-day, and yet all of them had passed away. These young,
round-cheeked childi-en had grown old, and but for this clever
likeness, not a trace of them would have remained. How I
acted, how I demeaned myself, when overcome by these im-
pressions I cannot say. The lowest depths of my human
affections and poetic sensibilities were laid bare in the bound-
less stirring of my heart ; all that was good and loving in my
soul seemed to open and break forth. In that moment with-
out fiuther probation or debate, I gained for life the affection
and confidence of those eminent men.

As a result of this union of soul and intellect, in which all
that was living in each came forth upon his lips, I offered to
recite my newest and most f;ivorite ballads. '"'' Der König von
Thule,'' (The king of Thule,) and "£'s icar ein Bube frech
(jenug^'^ (There was a rascal bold enough*,) had a good
effect, and I brought them forth with more feeling as my
poems were still bound to my heart, and as they seldom
passed my lips. For in the presence of persons, who I feared
could not sympathize with my tender sensibility, I felt re-
sti'ained; and frequently, in the midst of a recitation, I have
become confused and could not get right again. How often
for that reason have I been accused of wilfulness, and of a
sti'ange, whimsical disposition!

Although poetic composition, just then, mainly occupied
me and exactly siiited my temperament, I was still no stranger
to reflection on all kinds of subjects, and Jacobi's tendency to
the imfathomable, which was so original, and so much in
accordance with his nature, was most welcome and agree-
able to me. Here no controversy arose, neither a Christian
one, as with Lavater, nor a didactic one, as with Basedow.
The thoughts which Jacobi imparted to me flowed immedi-
ately from his heart. How profoundly was I moved when in
unlimited confidence, he revealed to me even the most hidden
longings of his soul! From so amazing a combination of
mental wants, passion, and ideas, I could only gather pre-
sentiments of what might, perhaps, afterwards grow more clear

* The title of the poem is " Der untreue Knabe," (The Faithless Bey),
and in the first line of it, as published in Göthe's collected works,
■"Kuabe" will be found instead of "Bube" — Trans.

26 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FEOM :MY 0"\VN LIFE.

to inc. Happily, I had already prepared if not fully culti-
vated myself on this side, having in some degree appropriated
the thoughts and mind of an extraordinary man, and though
my study of him had been incomplete and hasty, I was
yet alreadly conscious of important influences derived from
this som'ce. This mind, which had worked upon me thus de-
cisively, and which was destined to affect so deeply my whole
mode of thinlcing, was Spinoza. After looking through the
world in vain, to find a means of development for my strange
nature, I at last fell upon the Ethics of this philosopher. Of
what I read out of the work, and of what I read into it, I can
give no account. Enough that I found in it a sedative for
my passions, and that a free, Avide A'iew over the sensible and
moral world, seemed to open before me. But what especially
riveted me to him, was the utter disinterestedness which
shone forth in his every sentence. That wonderful senti-
ment, " He who truly loves God must not desire God to love
him in retmTi," together with all the preliminary propositions
on which it rests, and all the consequences that follow from
it, filled my whole mind. To be disinterested in everything,
but the most of all in love and friendship, was my highest
desire, ray maxim, my practice, so that that subsequent hasty
sa}dng of mine, " If I love thee what is that to thee?" was
spoken right out of my heart. Moreover, it must not be
forgotten hero that the closest imions are those of opposites.
The all-composing calmness of Spinoza was in striking con-
trast with my all-disturbing activity ; his mathematical method
was the direct opposite of my poetic humour- and my way of
writing, and that very precision which was thought ill-adapted
to moral subjects, made me his enthusiastic disciple, his most
decided worshipper. IMind and heart, understanding and
sense, sought each other with an eager afl&nity, binding toge-
ther the most different natures.

At this time, however, all within was fermenting and
seething in the first action and reaction. Fritz Jacobi, the
fii-st whom I sufiered to look into the chaos, and whose natiu-e
was also toiling in its own extreme depths, heartily received
my confidence, responded to it, and endeavored to lead me to
his own opinions. He, too, felt an unspeakable mental want ;
he, too, did not wish to have it appeased by outward aid, but
aimed at development and illumination from within. I coidd

PAINTINGS BY "WEEXIX. 27

not comprehend what he communicated to me of the state
of his mind, so much the less indeed, because I could form no
idea as to my own. Still, as he was far in advance of me in
philosophical thought, and even in the study of Spinoza, he
endeavored to guide and enlighten my obscure efforts. Such
a purely intellectual relationship was new to me. and excited
a passionate longing for farther communion. At night, after
we had parted and retired to our chambers, I often sought
him again. With the moonlight ti'embling over the broad
Rhine, we stood at the window, and revelled in that fiill
interchange of ideas which in such splendid moments of
confidence swells forth so abimdantly.

Still, of the unspeakable joy of those moments I can now
give no account. Much more distinct to my mind is an ex-
cursion to the hunting-seat of Bensberg, which, lying on the
right shore of the Rhine, commanded the most splendid pro-
spect. "\^^lat delighted me beyond measure was the decora-
tions of the walls by Weenix. They represented a large open
haU sun-oundcd by columns, at the foot of these, as if forming
the plinth, lay all the animals that the chase can furnish skiKully
arranged, and over these again the eye ranged over a wide
landscape. The wonderful artist had expended his whole skill
in giving life to these lifeless creatiu-es. In the delineation of
their widely varying coats, the bristles, hair, or feathers, with
the antlers and claws, he had equalled natm-e. while, in the
effect produced, he had excelled her. "\Mien we had admired
these woi'ks of art sufficiently, as a whole, we were led to
reflect on the handhng by which such pictures, combining so
much spirit and mechanical skill, were produced. We coidd
not understand how they could be created by the hands of
man, or by any of his instiimients. The pencil was not suffi-
cient; peculiar preparations must be supposed to make such
variety possible. Whether we came close to them, or with-
di-ew to a distance, our astonishment was equal; the cause
was as wonderful as the effect.

Our further jom-ney up the Rhine was happy and for-
tunate. The widening of the river in^-ites the mind to
expand itself likewise, and to look into the distance. We
arrived at Düsseldorf, and from thence came to Pempelfort, a
most delightful and beautifiü resting-place, where a spacious
mansion, opening upon extensive and well-kept gardens, col-

28 TRUTH AXD POETRY; FROM MY OAVX LIFi:.

lected tocother a thoughful and refined circle. The members
of the family were jaumerous, and strangers, who f'omid
abundant enjo^^ncnt in so rich and agi'eeable a neighbour-
hood were never wanting.

> In the Düsseldorf gallery my predilection for the Flemish
school ibuud plentiful noiuishment. There were whole halls
filled with these vigorous, sturdy pictures, brilliant with a
fulness of nature; and, if my judgment was not enlarged, my
store of knowledge was em-iched and my love for art con-
firmed.

The beautiful composure, contentment, and fimmess, which
marked the leading character of this family circle, quickly
manifested themselves to the observant eye of the thoughtful
guest, who could not fail to perceive that a vride sphere of
influences had here its centre. The activity and opulence
of the neighboring cities and villages contributed not a little
to enhance this feeling of inward satisfaction. AVe visited
Elberfeld, and were delighted with the busy aspect of so
many tlom-ishing manufactoiies. Here we fell in again with
our friend Jung, commonly kno'wm as Stilling, who had gone
^^vcn to Coblentz to meet us; and who always had his faith
in God and his truth towards men, as his most precious at-
tendants. Here we saAv him in his own cii'cle, and took
pleasure in the confidence reposed in him by his fellow citi-
zens, who, though occupied with earthly gain, did not leave
the heavenly treasures out of %-iew. The sight of this indus-
trious region was satisfactory, because its prosperity was the
result of order and neatness. In the contemplation of these
things we passed happy days.

"When I returned to my friend Jacobi, I enjoyed the rap-
turous feeling springing from a union of the innermost soul.
We were both inspired by the liveliest hope of an influence
in common, and I urgently pressed him to make an exhi-
bition in some .striking form or other of all that was acting
and moving Avithin him. This was the means by which I had
-escaped fi-om many perplexities, and I hoped that it would
relieve him also. He did not object, but undertook the task
Avith zeal, and how much that is good, and beautiful, and
consolatoiy, has he accomplished ! And so, at last, Ave
parted with the happy feeling of eternal union, and wholly
Avithout a presentiment that oui- labors would assume the

INTENDED DRAXA OF MAHOMET. 29

opposite directions, which, in the course of life, they so
markedly took.

^^^^ateve^ else occun-cd to m? on the return do\vn the Rhine
has altogether vanished from my memory, partly because the
second impressions of natural objects are wont, in my mind,
to be mingled with the first; and partly because, with my
thoughts turned inwardly, I was endeavouring to arrange the
varied experience I on myself had gained, and to work up
vrhat had affected me. Of one important result, as it im-
pelled me to creative efibrts, which kept me occupied for a
long time, I will now speak.

With my lawless disposition, with a life and action so aim-
less and purposeless, the observation coiüd not long escape
me that Lavater and Basedow employed intellectual and even ^
spiritual means for earthly ends. It soon struck me, who
spent my talents and my days on no object whatever, that
these two men, while endeavoring, to preach their- doctrines,
to teach and to convince, had each in his OMm way, certain
views in the background — the advancement of M'hich was, to
them, of great consequence. Lavater went to work gently
and prudently, Basedow vehemently, rudely, and even awk-
wardly ; but both were so convinced of the excellence of their
favorite schemes and midertakings, and their mode of prose-
cuting them, that so far all were compelled to look upon them
as men of sincerity, and to love and to honor them as such.
In praise of Lavater especially, it coidd be said that he
actually had higher objects, and, if he acted according to the
wisdom of this world, it was in the belief that the end would
haUow the means. As I observed them both, nay, indeed
frankly told them my opinions and heard theirs in retm-n, the
thought arose in me that eveiy highly-gifted man is called
upon to diffuse whatever there is of divine within him. In
attempting this, however, he comes in contact with the rough
world, and, in order to act upon it, he must put himself on
the same level. Thus, in a great measure he compromises
his high advantages, and finally forfeits them altogether.
The heavenly, the eternal, is buried in a body of earthly
designs, and hm-ried with it to the fate of the transient.
From this point of view I now regarded the career of these
two men, and they seemed to me, worthy both of honor and
of compassion ; for I thought I could foresee that each would

30 TRUTH AND TOETHY; FEOM MY OWN LIFE

be compelled to sacrifice the higher to the lower. As 1
pursued this reflection to the farthest extremity, and looked
beyond the limits of my narrow experience for similar cases
in history, the plan occurred to me of taking the life of
Mahomet, whom I had never been able to think an impostor,
for a dramatic exhibition of those couises which in actual
life, I was strongly convinced, invariably lead to ruin much
more than to good. I had shortly before read with great
interest, and studied the life of the Eastern Prophet, and was
therefore tolerably prepared when the thought occurred to
me. The sketch approached on the whole to the regular form
to which I was again inclining, although I still used in mode-
ration the liberty gained for the stage, and arranged time and
place according to my own pleasure. The piece began with
Mahomet alone luider the open sky, singing a hj-mn. In it
he adores fii'st of all the innumerable stai'S as so many gods ;
but as the friendly star. Gad (our Jupiter) rises, he offers to
him, as the king of the stars, exclusive adoration. Not long
after the moon ascends the horizon, and wins the eye and
heart of the worshipper, who, presently refreshed and
strengthened by the dawning sun, is called upon for new-
praises. But these changing phenomena, however delightful,
are still unsatisfactory and the mind feels that it must rise
yet above itself. It moimts, therefore, to God, the Only,
Eternal, Infinite, to whom aU these splendid yet limited
creatures owe their existence. I composed this hymn with
great delight ; it is now lost, but might easily be restored for
the purpose of a cantata, and would commend itself to the
musical composer by the variety of its expression. It would,
however, be necessary to imagine it sung, according to the
original plan, by the conductor of a caravan with his family
and tribe; and thus the alternation of the voices, and the
strength of the chorvis, would be provided for.

After ]Mahomet has thus converted himself, he imparts
these feelings and sentiments to his friends. His wife and
AH become his disciples without reserve. In the second act,
he zealously attempts, supported by the still more ardent Ali,
to propagate this fixith in the tribe. Assent and opposition
foUow the variety of character. The contest begins, the
strife becomes violent, and Mahomet is compelled to flee.
In the tliird act, he defeats his enemies, and making his

INTENDED DRAMA OF MAHOMET. 31

reKgion the public one, pm-ifies the Kaaba from idols ; but, as
all this cannot be done by power, he is obliged to resort to
cunning. What in his character is earthly increases and
extends itself; the divine retii-es and is obscni-ed. In the
fourth act, Mahomet pursues his conquests, his docti-ine be-
comes a pretence rather than an end ; aU conceivable means
must be employed, and barbarities become abundant. A
woman, whose husband has been put to death by Mahomet's
order, poisons him. In the fifth act, he feek that he is
poisoned. His great calmness, the retm-n to himself, and to
a higher sense, make him worthy of admii-ation. He purifies
his doctrine, establishes his kingdom, and dies.

Such was the sketch of a work which long occupied my
mind, for usually I was obliged to have the materials in my
head, before I commenced the execution. I meant, to repre-
sent the power which genius exercises over men by character
and intellect, and what are its gains and losses in the pro-
cess. Several of the songs, to be introduced in the di-ama,
were composed beforehand; all that remains of them, how-
ever, is what stands among my poems under the title " J/o/io-
mefs GesangT (Mahomet's Song). According to the plan,
this was to be sung by Ali in honor of his master, at the
highest point of his success, just before the changed aspect of
afiairs resulting from the poison. I recollect also the out-
lines of several scenes, but the explanation of them here
would lead me too far.

FIFTEENTH BOOK.

From: these manifold dissipations, which, however, generally
gave occasion for serious, and even religious reflections, I
alwavs returned to my noble friend, Fräulein von Klettenberg,
whose presence calmed, at least for a moment, my stormy
and undirected impulses and passions, and to whom next to
mv sister, I liked best to commimicate designs like that I
have just spoken of. I might, indeed, have perceived that
her health Avas constantly failing, but I concealed it from
mvself, and this I was the better able to do as her cheerful-
ness increased viith. her illness. She used to sit, neatly
dressed, in her chaii- at the window, and kindly Kstened to the
nan-atives of my little expeditions as well as to M'hat I read
aloud to her. Often, too, T made sketches, in order to make
her understand the better the description of the places I had
seen. One evening, I had been recalling to my mind many
diiferent images ; when in the light of the setting sun she
and all around her appeared before me, as if transfigm-ed. and
I coiüd not refrain from making a drawing of her and of the
suiTounding objects in the chamber, as well as my poor skill
permitted. In the hands of a skilful artist like Kersting it
would have made a beautiful picture. I sent it to a fair
friend at a distance, and added a song as commentary and
supplement :

In this magic glass reflected
See a Adsion, mild and bless'd;

By the M'ing of God protected,

See our friend, while suffering, rest.

^lark, how her endeavours bore her
From life's Avaves to realms above;

See thine image stand before her,
And the God, who died from love.

Feel what I, amid the floating
Of that heavenly ether, knew ;

When the first impression noting,
Hastily this sketch I drew.

THE MOEAVIANS. 33

Though in these stanzas, as had often happened before, I
expressed myself as "a stranger and foreigner,'' in short, as
a heathen, she did not take offence at it. On the contrary,
she assured me that in so doing I pleased her much more than
when I attempted to employ the Christian terminology, which
somehow I could never apply coiTectly. Indeed, it had be-
come a standing custom with me, whenever I read to her
missionary intelligence, which she was always fond of listen-
ing to, to take the part of the Pagans against the missionaries,
and to praise their old condition as preferable to their new
one. Still she was ever gentle and friendly, and seemed not
to have the least fear about me or my salvation.

My gradual alienation from her creed arose from the fact
that I had laid hold of it at first with too great zeal, with
passionate love. Ever since I became more intimately ac-
quainted with the Moravians, my inclination to this Society,
which had united under the victorious banners '^f Christ, had
constantly increased. It is exactly in the moment of its ear-
liest formation that a positive religion possesses its greatest
attraction. On that account it is delightful to go back to the
time of the Apostles, where all stands forth as fresh and im-
mediately spiritual. And thus it was that the Moravian doc-
trine acquii-ed something of a magical charm by appearing to
continue or rather to perpetuate the condition of those first
times. It connected its origin with them; when it seemed
to perish, it still wound its way through the world, although
by unnoticed tendinis; at last one little germ took root
beneath the protection of a pious and eminent man, and
so from an unnoticed and apparently accidental beginning
expanded once more over the wide world. In this Societ}% the
most important point, was the inseparable combination of the
reUgious and civil constitution by which the teacher was at
the same time the ruler, and the father the judge. "What was
stul more distinctive of their fraternity' was that the religious
head, to whom unlimited faith was yielded in spiritual things,
was also intrusted with the guidance of temporal affairs, and
his counsels, whether for the government of the whole body,
or for the guidance of indi-viduals, if confirmed by the issue of
the lot, were implicitly followed. Its peace and hannony,
to which at least outward appearances testified, was most
alluring, while, on the other hand, the missionary vocation
Vol. II. D

84 IRUTII AXD POEXRY; FEOM Mr OWN LIFE.

seemed to call forth and to give employment to all man's
active powers. The excellent persons whose acquaintance I
made at Marienboru, which I had visited in the company of
Councillor Moritz, the agent of C-ount von Isenburg, had
gained my unqualified esteem, and it only depended on them-
selves to make me their own. I studied their history, and
theü" doctrine, and the origin and gro^vth of their society, so
as to be able to give an accoimt of it and to talk about it
to all who might feel interested in it. Nevertheless, the con-
viction was soon forced upon me that with the brethren I did
not pass for a Chi-istian any more than I did with Fräidein
von Klettenberg. At first this disturbed me, but afterwards
my inclination to them became somewhat cooler. However,
I could not for a long time discover the precise ground of
difference, although it was obvious enough, until at last, it
was forced upon me more by accident than by reflection.
What separated me from this brotherhood, as well as from
other good Christian souls, was the very point on which the
Church has more than once fallen into dissension. On the
one hand, it was maintained that by the Fall human uatm'e
had been so corrupted to its innermost core, that not the
least good could be found in it, and that therefore man must
renounce all trust in his ovm powers, and look to grace and
its operations for everything. The other party, wliile it ad-
mitted the hereditary imperfections of man, nevertheless
ascribed to nature a certain germ of good within, which, ani-
mated by di'sine grace, was capable of growing up to a joyous
tree of spiritual happiness. By this latter conviction I was
unconsciously penetrated to my inmost soul, even while
with tongue and pen I maintained the opposite side. But I
had hithex-to gone on with such ill-defined ideas, that I had
never once clearly stated the ddemma to myself. From this
di'eam I was unexpectedly roused one day, w^hen, in a reli-
gious conversation, having distinctly advanced opinions, to
my mind, most innocent, I had in return to undergo a severe
lecture. The very thought of such a thing, it was maintained,
was genuine Pelagianism, a pernicious doctrine which was
again appearing, to the great injm-y of modern times. I was
astonished and even temfied. I went back to Church his-
toiy, studied the doctrine and fate of Pelagius more closel)',
and now saw clearly how these two iiTeconcilable opinions had

THE AVANDEKING JEW. 35

fluctuated in favour through Avhole centuries, and had been
embraced and acknowledged by different men, according as
they were of a more active or of a more passive nature.

The com-se of past years had constantly led me more
and more to the exercise of my o^^-n powers. A restless ac-
tivity was at work within me, with the best desire for moral
development. The world without demanded that this acti\-ity
should be regulated and employed for the advantage of others,
and this great demand I felt called upon in my own case to
meet. On all sides I had been directed to nature, and she had
appeared to me in her whole magnificence; I had been ac-
quainted with many good and true men who were toiling to
do theii- duty, and for the sake of duty; to renounce them,
nay to renounce myself, seemed impossible. The gulf which
separated me from the doctrine of man"s total depravity now
became plain to me. Nothing, therefore, remained to me but
to part from this society; and as my love of the holy Scrip-
tiu-es, as well as of the founder of Chi'istianity and its early
professors, coidd not be taken from me, I formed a Chris-
tianity for my private use, and sought to establish and build
it up by an attentive study of history and a careful obser-
vation of those who were favourable to my opinion.

As everj'thing which I once warmly embraced immediately
put on a poetic form, I now took up the strange idea of
treating epically the history of the Wandering Jew, which
popular books had long since impressed upon my mind. My
design was to bring out in the course of the narrative such
prominent points of the history of rehgion and the Church as
I should find convenient. I will now explain the way ia
which I treated this fable, and what meaning I gave to it.

In Jerusalem, according to the legend, there was a shoe-
maker, of the name of Ahasucrus. For this character my
Dresden .shoemaker was to supply the main features. I had
furnished him with the spirit and humor of a craftsman of
the school of Hans Sachs, and ennobled him by an inclination
to Christ. Accordingly as, in his open workshop, he liked to
talk with the passers-by, jested with them, and, after the
Socratic fashion, touched up every one in his o\\ti way, the
neighbors and others of the people took pleasure in lingering
at his booth ; even Pharisees and Sadducees spoke to him,
and the Saviour himself and his disciples would often stop at
D 2

36 TRUTH AXD POETKi'; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

his door. The shoemaker, wliose thoughts were directed solely
towards the world, I painted as feeling, nevertheless, a special
affection for our Lord, which, for the most peu't, evinced itself
by a desire to bring this lofty being, whose mind he did not
comprehend, over to his own way of thinking and acting.
Accordingly, in a modest manner, he recommends Christ to
abandon his contemplative life, and to leave off going about
the country with such idlers, and drawing the people away
from their labor into the wilderness. A multitude, he said,
was always ready for excitement, and nothing good could
come of it.

On the other hand, the Lord endeavoured, by parables, to
instruct him in his higher views and aims, but these were all
thrown away on his mere matter-of-fact intellect. Thus, as
Christ becomes more and more an important character, and
finally a public person, the friendly workman pronoimces
his opinion still more sharply and vehemently, maintaining
that nothing but disorder and tumult could follow from such
proceedmgs, and that Christ would be at last compelled to
put himself at the head of a party, though that could not
possibly be his design. Finally, when things had taken the
course which history narrates, and Christ had been seized and
condemned, Ahasuerus gives full vent to his indignation when
Judas who undesignedly had betrayed his Lord, in his despair
enters the workshop, and with lamentations relates how his
plans had been crossed. He had been, he said, as well as the
shrewdest of the other disciples, firmly convinced that Christ
would declare himself regent and head of the nation. His
pui-pose was only, by this violence, to compel the Lord, whose
hesitation had hitherto been invincible, to hasten the declara-
tion. Accordingly, he had incited the priesthood to an act
which previously they had not courage to do. The disciples,
on their side, were not without arms, and probably all
would have turned out well, if the Lord had not given himself
up, and left them in the most forlorn state. Ahasuerus, whom
'this narrative in no ways tends to propitiate, only exasperates
the agony of the poor ex-apostle, who rushes out and goes
and hangs himself.

As Jesus is led past the workshop of the shoemaker, on his
•\fay to execution, the well-known scene of the legend occurs.
■ I'iie sufferer faints under the burden of the cross, and Simou

THE AVAXDEKIXG JEAV, 37

of Cyrene is compelled to cany it. Upon this, Ahasuenis
comes forward, and sustains the part of those harsh common-
sense people, Avho, when they see a man involved in misfor-
tune through his own fault, feel no pity, but, struck by ais
untimely sense of justice, make the matter worse by thöir-
reproaches. As he comes out, he repeats all his former wam^
ings, changing them into vehement accusations, which his
attachment to the sufferer seems to justify. The Saviour does
not answer, but at the instant the loving Veronica covers his
face with the napkin, on which, as she removes it and raises
it aloft, Ahasuerus sees depicted the features of the Lord, not
indeed as those of the sufferer of the moment, but as of one
transfigured and radiant with celestial life. Amazed by this-
phenomenon, he turns away his eyes and hears the words i
*•' Over the earth shalt thou wander till thou shalt once more
see me in this form." Overwhelmed at the sentence, it is not
tiU after some time that the artisan comes to himself; he then
finds that eveiy one has gone to the place of execution and
that the streets of Jerusalem are empty. Disquiet and
curiosity di'ive him forth, and he begins his wandering.

I shall, perhaps, speak elsewhere of all this, and of the inci -,
dent by which the poem was ended indeed, but not finished.
The beginning, some detached passages, and the conclusion,
were WTitten. But I never completed the work. I lacked
time for the studies necessary to give it the finish and beai-ing
that I wished. The few sheets which I did write were the-
more willingly left to repose in obscurity, as a new and ne-
cessary' epoch was now formed in my mental character by the-
publication of Werther.

The common fate of man, which all of us have to bear, must
fall most hea'S'ily on those whose intellectual powers expand
very early. For a time we may grow up under the protection
of parents and relatives ; we may lean for a while upon our
brothers and sisters and friends, be supported by acquaint-
ances, and made happy by those we love, but in the end man
is always driven back upon himself, and it seems as if the
Divinity had taken a position towards men so as not always
to respond to their reverence, trust, and love, at least not in
the precise moment of need. Early enough, and by many a
hard lesson, had I learned that at the most urgent crises the
caU to us is, " Physician, heal thyself;" and how frequently

öö TEfTlI AXD poetry; FKOM MY OWN LIFE.

had I been compelled to sigh out in pain, " I tread the whxe-
press alone I"' So now, while I was looking about for the
means of establishing my independence, I felt that the sui-est
basis on which to build was my own creative talents. For
many years I had never known it to fail me for a mo-
ment. What, waking, I had seen by day, often shaped itself
into regular dreams at night, and when I opened my eyes
there appeared to me either a wonderful new whole, or a
part of one already commenced. Usually, my time for writ-
ing was early in the morning, but still in the evening, or even
late at night, when wine and social intercourse had raised my
spirits, I was ready for any topic that might be suggested;
only let a subject of some character be oflered, and I was at
once prepared and ready. While, then, I reflected upon this
natiu-al gift, and fovmd that it belonged to me as my ovra, and
could neither be favoured nor hindered by any external mat-
ters, I easily in thought built my whole existence upon it.
This conception soon assumed a distinct fonn ; the old m\i;ho-
logical image of Prometheus occiuTcd to me, who, separated
from the gods, peopled a world fi-om his own work-shop.
I clearly felt that a creation of importance could be produced
only Avhen its aiithor isolated himself. INIy productions which
had met with so much applause were children of soHtude, and
since I had stood in a wider relation to the world, I had not
been wanting in the power or the pleasure of invention, but
the execution halted, because I had, neither in prose nor in
verse, a style properly my own, and, consequently, with every
new work, had always to begin at the begiiuiing and try ex-
periments. As in this I had to decline and even to exclude
the aid of men, so, after the fashion of Prometheus, I separated
myself fi-om the gods also, and the more naturally as with my
character and mode of thinking one tendency always swallowed
up and repelled all others.

The fable of Prometheus became li-säng in me. The old
Titan Aveb I cut up according to my own iYiea«m-ements, and
without iurther reflection began to write a piece in which was
painted the difficulty Prometheus was placed in with respect
to Jupiter and the later gods, in consequence of his maldng
men with his own hand, giving them life by the aid of Minerva,
and founding a tliird dynasty. And, in fact, the reigning
gods had good cause to feel aggrieved, since they might now

PKOMETHEUS. 39

appear in the light of M-rongM intruders between the Titans
and men. To this singular composition belongs as a mono-
logue that poem, -which has become remarkable in German
literature, by having called forth a declaration from Lessing
against Jacobi on certain weighty matters of thought and
feeUng. It thus served as the match to an explosion which
revealed and brought into discussion the most secret relations
of men of worth ; — relations of which they perhaps were not
themselves conscious, and which were slumbering in a society
otherwise most enlightened. The schism was so \-iolent, that,
"with the concurrence of frirther incidents, it caused us the i
loss of one of our most valuable meu , namely, Mendelssohn.

Although philosophical and even rehgions considerations
may be, and before now have been attached to this subject,
still it belongs peculiarly to poetry. The Titans are the foU.
of polytheism, as the de\al may be considered the foil of
monotheism, though, like the only God to whom he stands in
contrast, he is not a poetic figure. The Satan of Milton,
though boldly enough di-awm, stul remains ia the disadvan-
tageous light of a subordinate existence attempting to destroy
the splendid creation of a higher being ; Prometheus, on the
contrary, has this advantage, that, even in spite of superior
beings, he is able to act and to create. It is also a beautiful
thought, and vrell suited to poetr^', to represent men as created
not by the Supreme Ruler of the world, but by an interme-
diate agent, who, however, as a descendant of the most ancient
dynasty, is of worth and importance enough for such an office.
Thus, and indeed under every- aspect, the Grecian mythology
is an inexhaustible mine of divine and human sjTnbols.

Nevertheless, the Titanic, gigantic, heaven-storming cha-
racter aiforded no suitable material for my poetic art. It bet-
ter suited me to represent that peaceful, plastic, and always
patient opposition which recognising the superior power, stul
presumes to claim equality. And yet the bolder members of
the race, Tantalus, Ixion, Sisyphus, were also my saints. Ad-
mitted to the society of the gods, they would not deport
themselves submissively enough, but, by their haughty bear-
ing as guests, proA-oked the anger of their host and patron,
and di-ew upon themselves a sorrowful banishment. T pitied
them ; their condition had already been set forth by the an-
cients as tnily tragic, and when I introduced them in the

40 TRUTH AND POETKY ; mOil MY OWX LIFE.

back-ground of my Iphigenie, I was indebted to them for a
part of the effect which that piece had the good fortune to
produce.

At this period I usually combined the art of design vrith
poetical composition. I di-ew the portraits of my friends in
profile on grey paper, in white and black chalk. Whenever I
dictated or listened to reading, I sketched the positions of the
■wiiter and reader, with the surrounding objects; the resem-
blance could not be denied, and the dra'w-ings were well re-
ceived. Dilettanti always have this advantage because they
give their labor for nothing. But feeling the insufficiency of
this copying, I betook myself once more to language and
rhythm which were much more at my command. How
briskly, how joyously and eagerly I went to work with them
will appear from the many poems which, enthusiastically pro-
claiming the art of nature, and the nature of art, infused, at
the moment of their production, new spirit into me as well
as into my friends.

At this epoch, and in the midst of these occupations, I was
sitting one evening with a struggling light in my chamber, to
which at least the air of an artist's studio was thus imparted,
while the walls, stuck over and covered with half-finished
works, gave the impression of great industry, when there
entered a well-formed, slender man, whom, at first, in the
twilight, I took for Fritz Jacobi, but soon, discovering my
mistake, greeted as a stranger. In his free and agreeable
bearing a certain military air was perceptible. He aimounced
himself by the name of Von Knebel, and from a brief intro-
duction I gathered that he was in the Prussian service, and
that diu-ing a long residence at Berlin and Potsdam he had
actively cultivated an acquaintance with the literaiy men of
those places, and with German literature in general. He had
attached himself particularly to Ramler, and had adopted his
mode of reciting poems. He was also fomiliar with all that
Götz had written, who, at that time, had not as yet made a
name among the Germans. Through his exertions the Jläd-
cheninsel (Isle of Maidens) of this poet had been printed at
Potsdam, and had fallen into the hands of the king, who was
said to have expressed a favorable opinion of it.

We had scarcely talked over these subjects of general in-
terest in German Literature, before I learned, much to my

STATE OF WEIMAK. 41

satisfaction, that he was at present stationed in Weimar, and
was appointed the companion of Prince Constantin. Of mat-
ters there I had already heard much that was favorable ; for
several strangers, who had come from Weimar, assured us
that the Duchess Amalia had gathered round her the best
men to assist in the education of the princes her sons; that
the Academy of Jena, through its admirable teachers, had also
contributed its part to this excellent purpose ; and that the
arts were not only protected by this princess, but were prac-
tised by her with great diligence and zeal. We also heard
that Wieland was in especial favor. The Deutsche Merkur, i^
too, which imited the labors of so many scholars in other
places, contributed not a little to the fame of the city in wliich
it was published. There also was one of the best theatres
in Germany, which was made famous by its actors, as well as
by the authors who wrote for it. These noble institutions and
plans seemed, however, to have received a sudden check, and
to be threatened with a long interruption, in consequence of
the terrible conflagration of the castle, which took place in the
May of that year. But the confidence in the hereditary prince
was so great that everj' one was convinced not only that the
damage would be repaired, but that in spite of it every other
hope would be fuUy accomplished. As I inquired after these
persons and things, as if I were an old acquaintance, and
expressed a wish to become more intimately acquainted with
them, my visitor replied, in the most friendly manner possible,
that nothing was easier, since the hereditary prince, with his
brother, the Prince Constantin, had just arrived in Franldbrt,
and desired to .see and know me. I at once expressed the
greatest willingness to M'ait upon them, and my new friend
told me that I must not delay, as their stay would not be
long. In order to equip myself for the visit, I took Von
Knebel to my father and motlier, who were surprised at his
arrival, and the message he bore, and conversed with him
with great satisfaction. I then proceeded with him to the
young princes, who received me in a very easy and friendly
manner ; Count Gortz, also, the tutor of the hereditary prince,
appeared not displeased to see mc. Though there was no
lack of literary subjects for our conversation, accident fur-
nished the best possible introduction to it, and rendered it at
once important and profitable.

42 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OVTN LIFE.

\

Mosers Patriotische Fantasieii (patriotic Fantasies), that
is to say, the fost part of them, were lying on the table, fresh
from the binder, witli the leaves uncut. As I was familiar
with them, while the rest were scarcely acquainted with
them, I had the advantage of being able to give a complete
accoimt of the work, and had here a favorable opportunity for
speaking with a young prince who was sincerely desirous, and
also firmly determined to make use of his station to do aU the
\ good in his power. Möser"s book, both in its contents and its
tone, could not but be highly interesting to every German.
WTiile by other writers division, anarchy, and impotence, had
been brought as a reproach against the German empire, ac-
cording to Moser this very nimaber of small states was highly
desii'able, as affording room for the special cultivation of each,
according to its necessities, Avhich must vary with the site and
peculiarities of such widely different provinces. In the same
way, I remarked, that Moser, starting with the city and
bishopric {Stift) of Osnaburg, and thence going over the cii'cle
of Westphalia, set forth its relation to the whole empire, and
just as he, in the further examination of the subject, imit-
ing the past with the present, deduced the latter from the
former, and thus clearly shewed what alterations were desir-
able or not; so might every ruler, by proceeding in the same
M^ay, obtain a thorough knowledge of the constitution of the
state he governs, its coimexion with its neighbors and with
the whole empire, and thus enable himself to judge both the
present and the futui-e.

In the course of our conversation, many remarks were
made Avith regard to the difference between the States of
Upper and Lower Saxony ; not only their natural productions,
it was observed, but also their manners, laws, and customs
had differed from the earliest times, and, according to the
form of religion and government, had variously modified
themselves. We endeavoured to obtain a clear view of the
difierences between the two regions, and in this attempt it
soon appeared how useful it would be to have a good model,
which, if regarded, not in its individual peculiarities, but in
the general method on which it had been based, might be ap-
plied to the most widely difiering cases, and thereby might
be highly serviceable in helping us to form a correct judg-
ment.

PKOSPECTS OF A COUKT-LIFE. 43

Tliis conversation, whlcli was kept up when we were set
dowTi at table, made a better impression in my favor than I
perhaps deserved. For instead of making such works as be-
longed to my own sphere of literature the subjects of dis-
cussion ; instead of demanding an imdivided attention for the
di'ama and for romance, I appeai'ed while discussing Möser's
book, to prefer those writers whose talents, proceeding fi-om
active life, retmned to it with immediate benefit, whereas
works properly poetical, as soaring above mere social and
material interests, covüd only be indirectly and accidentally
profitable. These discussions went on like the stories of the
Arabian Nights ; one important matter came up after another ;
many themes were only touched upon without om- being able
to foUow them out, and accordingly, as the stay of the young
princes in Frankfort was necessarily short, they made me pro-
mise to follow them to ^layence and spend a few days with
them there. I gave this promise gladly enough, and hastened
home to impart the agi-eeable intelligence to my parents.

My father, however, could not by any means be brovight to
approve of it. In accordance with his sentiments as a citizen
of the empire, he had always kept aloof from the great, and
although constantly coming in contact mth the charges
d'affaires of the neighboring princes, he had nevertheless
avoided all personal relations mth them. In fact, courts
were among the things about which he was accustomed to
joke. He was not indeed displeased if any one opposed his
opinions on this head; only he was not satisfied unless his
opponent maintained his side with wit and spirit. If we
allowed his '•' Procul a Jove procul a fulmine''' to pass, but
added that with lightning the question was not so much
whence it came as whither it went; he would bring up the
old proverb, "With great lords it is not good to eat cherries."
When to this we replied that it was yet worse to eat with
dainty people out of one basket, he would not deny the truth
of this; only he was sm-e to have another proverb ready
at hand which was to put us to confusion. For since pro-
verbs and rhyming apophthegms proceed fi-om the people,
who, while they are forced to obey, like at least to speak
their vengeance, just as their superiors, on the other hand,
indemnify themselves by deeds ; and since the jjoctry of the
sixteenth century is almost wholly of a nervous didactic cha-

44 TErXH AND POETKT; TKOJl MY OWX LIFE.

ractcr, there is in our language no lack of jests and serious
adages, directed from below upwards. We juniors, however,
now began to aim from above downwards, fancying ourselves
something great as we took up the cause of the great. Of
these sayings and counter-sayings I will here insert a few.

A.

Long at court is long in hell,

B.
There many good folks warm them well.

A.
Such as I am, Tni still mine own.
To me shall favors ne'er be shown.

B.

Blush not a favor to receive,

For you must take, if you would give.

A. '

This trouble at the court you catch,

That where you itch, you must not scratch.

B.
The sage, that would the people teach.
Must scratch a place that does not itch.

A.
Those who a slavish office choose,
One half of life are sure to lose.
And come what will they may be sure.
Old Nick the other will secure.

B.

"Wtoe'er with princes is at home,
WiU some day find good fortune come;
"Wh.0 courts the rabble, — to his cost
Will find that aU his year is lost.

A.

Though wheat at court seems flourishing.
Doubt that great harvest it will bring.
When to your barn you deem it brought,
You'U find that after aU 'tis nought.

PBOSPECTS OF A COURT-LIPE. 45

B.

The wheat that blooms will ripen too,
For so of old it used to do ;
And if a crop is spoil' d by hail,
The next year's harvest will not fail.

A.

He who would serve himself alone,
Should have a cottage of his o^vn.

Dwell with his children and his wife,
Regale himself with light new wine,
And on the cheapest viands dine :

Then nothing can disturb his life.

B.

So, from a master you'ld be freer —
WTiither think' st thou then to flee?
Dream not yom- freedom you will get.
You have a wife to rule you yet.
She by her stupid boy is ruled.
Thus in your cot you still are schooled.

As I was lately looking up these rhymes in some old me-
morandum books, I fell in with many such jenx d' esprit, in
which we had amplified pithy old German saws, in order to
set them off against other proverbs which are equally veri-
fied by experience. A selection from them may perhaps here-
after, as an epilogue to the "Puppenspiele" (puppet shows),
suggest some pleasant reflections.

But all these rejoinders could not move my father jfrom his
opinions. He was in the habit of saving his most stringent
argiiment for the close of the discussion. This consisted of a
minute description of Voltaire's adventure with Frederick
the Second. He told us how the unbounded favor, familiarity,
mutual obligations, were at once revoked and forgotten ; how
he had lived to see the comedy out in the arrest of that ex-
traordinary poet and writer by the Frankfort civic guard, on
the complaint of the Resident Frejiiag, and the warrant of the
Bmgomaster Fichard, and his confinement for some time in
the tavern of the Rose, on the Zed. To this we might have
answered in many ways. — among others, that Voltaire was not
free firom blame himself, — but from filial respect we always

46 TKUTH AXD POETKY ; FKOM MT OWN XTFE.

yielded the point. On the present occasion, when these
things and others like them were alluded to, I hardly knew
how to demean myself, for he warned me explicitly, main-
taining that the invitation was given only to entice me into a
trap, in order to take vengeance on me for my mischievous
treatment of the favored Wieland. Fully as I was convinced
of the contrary, yet as I saw but too plainly that a precon-
ceived opinion, excited by hypochondriac fancies, aflBicted my
worthy father, I was unwilling to act ia dh-ect opposition to
his convictions. Still I could not find any excuse for failing
to keep my promise without appearing ungrateful and imcour-
teous. unfortunately our friend Fräulein Von Klettenberg,
to whose ad^•ice we usoiaUy resorted in such cases, Avas
confined to her bed. In her and my mother I had two
incomparable companions. I caUed them Word and Deed ;
for when the former cast her serene or rather blissful glance
over earthly things, what was confusion to us childi'en of
earth, at once grew plain before her, and she could almost
always point out the right way, because she looked upon the
labyrinth from above, and was not herself entangled in it.
"\Mien a decision was once made, the readiness and energy of
my mother could be relied on. While the former had Sight
for her aid the latter had Faith, and as she maintained her
serenity in aU cases, she was never without the means of
accomplishing what was proposed or desired. Accordingly
she was now despatched to our sick friend to obtaia her
opinion, and when this turned out in my favour, she was en-
treated to gain the consent of ray father, who jielded, against
his belief and \sill.

It was in a veiy cold season of the year that I anlved at
the appointed hour in Mayence. My reception by the yoimg
princes and by their attendants, was no less friendly than the
invitation. The conversation in Frankfort was recalled and
resmned at the point where it had been broken oif. When it
touched upon the recent German literatm-e and its audacities,
it was perfectly natural that my famous piece, " Götter^
\/ Helden, und Wieland''' (Gods, Heroes, and Wieland) should
come up, at which I remarked with satisfaction that the thing
was regarded with good humor. Being called on to give the
real history of thisji'ew d' esprit, which had excited so great at-
tention, I could not avoid confessing, first of all, that as tme

" GODS, HEKOES, AND -WIBEA-ND." 47

fellows of the Upper Rhine, "sve had no bounds either to our
liking or disHking. "With us, reverence for Shakspeare was [/
carried to adoration. But Wieland, with his decided pecu-
liarit}- of destroj-ing the interest, both of himself and of his
readers, had, in the notes to his translation, found much fault
with the great author, and that in such a way as to vex us
exceedingly, and to diminish in our eyes, the value of the
work. We saw that Wieland, whom we had so highly re-
vered as a poet, and who, as a translator, had rendered such ;
great service, was, as a critic, capricious, one-sided, and (
"unjust. Besides this, he had deliberately spoken against o\ir '
idols, the Greeks, and this sharpened our hostility yet more.
It is well known that the Greek gods and heroes are eminent
not for moral but for glorified physical qualities, for which
reason they aflFord such splendid subjects to artists. Now
Wieland, in his Alceste, had presented heroes and demi-gods
after the modem fashion. Against this we had nothing to
say, as every one is at liberty to moiüd poetic traditions to
his own ends and way of thinking. But in the letters on this
opera, which he inserted in the Merkur, he appeared to us
unduly to exalt this mode of treating them ; in short, to show
too much of the partisan, and to commit an unpardonable sin
against the good ancients and their high-er style, by his ab- L^
solute im willingness to recognise the strong, healthy nature
which is the basis of their productions. I told them we had
hardly discussed these grievances with some vehemence in our
little society, when my ordinary rage for di-amatizing every-
thing came upon me one Sunday afternoon, and so at one
sitting, over a bottle of good Bm-gimdy, I Avrote off the whole
piece, just as it stands. It was no sooner read to those of my
colleagues as were present, and received by them with excla-
mations of dehght, than I sent the manuscript to Lenz at
Strasburg, who appeared enraptured with it, and maintained
that it must be printed -without delay. .After some corres-
pondence, I at last consented, and he put it hastily to press at
Strasburg. Some time aftenvards. I learned that this was one
of the first steps which Lenz took in his design to injure me,
and to bring me into disgrace mth the public ; but at that
time I neither knew nor surmised anything of the kind.
' In this way I narrated to my new patrons, ^vith perfect
candoiu-, the innocent origin of the piece, as well as I knew

48 TRUTH AND poetry; feom my own life.

it myself, in order to convince them that it contained no per-
sonality, nor any ulterior motive. I also took care to let
them understand with what gaiety and recklessness we wer«
accustomed to banter and ridicule each other among om-selves.
With this, I saw that they were quite content. They almost
admired the great fear we had lest any one of ourselves should
go to sleep upon his laurels. They compared such a society
to those Buccaneers who, in every moment of repose, are
afraid of becoming effeminate, and whose leaders, when there
are no enemies in sight, and there is no one to plunder, will let
ofl* a pistol under the mess-table, in order that even in peace
there may be no want of wounds and horrors. After consi-
derable discussion pro and con upon this subject, I was at last
induced to write Wieland a friendly letter. I gladly availed
myself of the opportunity, as, in the Merkur, he had spoken
most liberally of this piece of youthful folly, and as, in
literary feuds, was almost always his custom, had ended the
affair in the most skilful manner.

The few days of my stay at Mayence passed off very plea-
santly ; for when my new patrons were abroad on visits and
banquets, I remained with their attendants, drew the por-
traits of several, or went skating, for which the frozen ditches
of the fortification afforded excellent opportunity. I returned
home full of the kindness I had met with, and. as I entered
the house, was on the point of emptying my heart by a minute
accouQt of it; but I saw only troubled faces, and the convic-
tion was soon forced upon me that our friend Fräiuein von
Klettenberg was no more. At this I was greatly concerned,
because, in my present situation I needed her more than ever.
They told me for my consolation, that a pious death had
crowned her happy life, and that the cheerfulness of her faith
had remained undisturbed to the end. But there was also
another obstacle in the way of a free commimication on the
subject of my visit My father, instead of rejoicing at the for-
tunate issue of this little adventure, persisted in his opinion,
and maintained, on the other hand, that it was nothing but dis-
simulation, and that perhaps there was a danger of their car-
rying out in the end something still worse against me. I was
thus driven to my younger fi'iends with my narrative, and to
them I could not tell it circumstantially enough. But, their
attachment and good will, led to a result which to me was

THE PROMETHEUS AND HIS KEVIEWERS. 4'ü

most unpleasant. Shortly afterwards, appeared a pam-
phlet, called "Prometheus and his Reviewers," also in a dra-
matic foi-m. In this the comical notion was carried out, of
putting little wood-cut figures before the dialogue, instead of
proper names, and representing by all sorts of satirical images
those critics who had expressed an opinion upon my works,
or on works akin to them. In one place the Altona
courier, without his head, was blomng his horn, here a
bear was growling, and there a goose was cackling. The
Merkur, too, was not forgotten, and many wild and
tame animals were represented in the atelier of the sculp-
tor endeavoring to put him out, while he, without taking-
particular notice of them, kept zealously at his M'ork, and did
not refrain from expressing his opinion about the matter in
general. The appearance of this Jen d'esprii surprised me
much, and was as unexpected as it was disagreeable. Its style
and tone evidently showed that it was by one of oui- society,
and indeed I feared it might be attributed to me. But what
Avas most annoying, was the circumstance that "Prometheus"
brought out some allusions to my stay at Mayence and to
what was said there, which nobody but myself could have
known. To me this was a proof that the author was one of
those who formed my most intimate circle of friends, where
he must have heard me relate these events in detail. Ac-
cordingly we all looked at each other, and each suspected the
rest, but the unknown writer managed very well to keep hi»
own secret. I uttered vehement reproaches against him,
because it was exceedingly vexatious to me, after so gracious
a reception and so important a conversation, and after the
confiding letter I had written to Wieland, to see here an
occasion for fresh distrust and disagreement. However my
micertainty on this point Avas not of long dm-ation. As I
walked up and down my room reading the book aloud, I heard
clearly in the fancies and the tui-ns of expression the voice of
Wagner — and it was he. When I had rushed doAvn stairs to
impart my discovery to my mother, she confessed to me that
she ah-cady knew it. Annoyed at the ill results of what had
seemed to him a good and praiseworthy plan, the author had
discovered himself to her, and besought her intercession with
me, not to fulfil in his person my threat of holding no further
intercourse with the writer who had so abused my confidence.
Vol. II. E

50 IKUTH AND poetky; teom: my owx life.

The fact that I had found him out myself was very much in
his tavoui-, and the satisfaction always attending a discovery
of one's own, inclined me to be merciful. The fault which
had given occasion for such a proof of my sagacitv, was for-
given. Nevertheless, it was not easy to eon^^nce the pubhc
that Wagner was the author, and that I had had no hand
in the game. No one believed that he possessed such versa-
tility of talent ; and no one reflected, that it was A-eiy easy
for him, though possessio o; no remarkable talents of his own,
to notice, seize upon, and bring out in his o\ni Avay aU that
for some time had passed either in jest and earnest in an
intellectual society. And thus on this occasion as on many
others afterwards, I had to suffer not only for my own follies,
but also for the indiscretion and precipitancy of my fi-iends.

As the remembrance of them is here suggested by many
circumstances, I will speak of some distinguished men who,
at difierent times, on their passage through Frankfort, either
lodged at our house or partook of our finendly hospitality.
Once more Klopstock stands justly at the head. I had already
exchanged several letters with him, when he announced to
me that he was invited to go to Carlsruhe and to reside there ;
that he would be in Fricdberg by a specified day. and wished
that I would come there and fetch him. I did not fail to be
there at the hour. He, however, had been accidently detained
upon the road; and after I had waited in vain for some days,
I went home, where he did not amve till after some time, and
then excused his delay, and received very kindly my readiness
to come to meet him. His person was small but well-built ; his
manners without being stiif, were serious and precise ; his con-
versation was measured and agiceable. On the whole there
was something of the diplomatist in his bearing. Such a
man undertakes the difficult task of siipporting, at the same
time, his own dignity, and that of a superior to whom he is
responsible : of advancing his own interest, together with the
much more important interest of a prince, or even of a whole
State ; and of making himself, beyond all things, pleasing to
other men while in this critical position. In this way Klop-
stock appeared to bear himself as a man of worth and as the
representative of other things — of religion, of morality and
freedom. He had also assumed another peculiarity of men
of the world — ^namely, not readily to speak on subjects upon

ZIirMEEMAXX. 51

which he was particularly expected and desired to discourse.
He was seldom heai'd to mention poetic and literaiy subjects.
But as he found in me and my fi-iends a set of passionate
skaters, he discoursed to us at length on this noble art. on
which he had thought much, having considered what in it
was to be sought, and what avoided. Still, before we could
receive the instruction he proffered, we had to submit to be
put right as to the word itself, in which we blundered.* We ^^
spoke in good Upper-Saxon of Schlittschuhen, which he would "^^r^
not allow to pass at all; for the word, he said, does not come
from Schlitten (sledge), as if one went on little nmners, but
fi'om Schreiten (to stride", because Hke the Homeric gods the
skater stiides away on these winged shoes over the sea frozen
into a plain. Xext we came to the insti-ument itself. He
woidd have nothing to do with the high grooved skates, but
recommended the low, broad, smooth-bottomed Friseland
steel skates as the most serviceable for speed. He was no
friend to the tricks of ait which are usually performed in this
exercise. I procured, according to his advice, a pair of
smooth skates, with long toes, and xised them for several
years, though with some discomfort. He imderstood. too,
the science of horsemanship and horse-breaking, and Hked to
talk about it : thus, as if by design, he avoided all convei-sation
upon his own profession, that he might speak with gi-eater
fi-eedom about arts quite foreign to it, which he pursued only,
as a pastime. I might say much more of these and other
peculiarities of this exti-aordinary man, if those who lived
longer with him had not already informed us folly about
them. One observation, however, I will not suppress, which
is, that men whom Xature. after endowing them with imcom-
mon advantages, has placed in a naiTOw cü'cle of action, or
at least in one dispz-opoi-tioned to their powers, generally fall
into eccentricities; and as they have no opportunity of
making direct use of their gifts, seek to employ them in an
extraordinaiy or whimsical manner.

Zimmermann was also for a time our guest. He was tall
and powerfully built; of a vehement nature open to every

* There are two words used for " skate." One of them Schlittschuh,
means "sledge-shoe; the other Schritfschuch, means "stride-shoe."
Göthe and his friends make use of the former ; Klopstock contends for
the latter.

£ 2

52 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

impulse ; yet lie had his outward bearing and manners per-
fectly under control, so that in society he appeared as a
skilful physician and polished man of the world. It was
only in his writings and amongst his most confidential friends,
that he gave free course to his untamed inward chai'acter.
His conversation was varied and highly instructive, and for
one who could pardon his keen sensitiveness to whatever
grated on his own personal feelings and merits, no more
desirable companion could be fovmd. For myself, as what
is called vanity never disturbed me, and I in return often
presumed to be vain also — that is, did not hesitate to enlarge
upon whatever in myself pleased me, I got on with him capi-
tally. We mutually tolerated and scolded each other, and,
as he showed himself thoroughly open and communicative, I
learned fi'om him a great deal in a short time.

To judge such a man with the indulgence of gratitude, nay
on principle, I cannot say that he was vain. We Genuans
misuse the word " vain" (eitel), but too often. In a strict
sense, it carries with it the idea of emptiness, and we pro-
perly designate by it only the man who cannot conceal his
joy at his Nothing, his contentment with a hollow phantom.
With Zimmermann it was exactly the reverse; he had great
deserts, and no inward satisfaction. The man who cannot
enjoy his own natural gifts in silence, and find his reward in
the exercise of them, but must wait and hope for their
recognition and appreciation by others, will generally find
himself but badly off, because it is but too well known a fact
that men are very niggard of their applause; that they rather
love to mingle alloy with praise, and where it can in any
degree be done, to turn it into blame. WTioever comes
before the public without being prepared for this, will meet
with nothing but vexation; since, even if he does not over-
estimate his o^\^l production, it still has for him an vmlimited
value, while the reception it meets with in the world, is
in every case qualified. Besides, a certain susceptibility is
necessary for praise and applause, as for every other pleasure.
Let this be applied to Zimmermann, and it will be acknow-
ledged in his case too ; that no one can obtain what he does
not bring with him.

If this apology cannot be allowed, still less shall we be able
to justify another fault of this remarkable man, because it

ZIMMEKJIANN. 53

disturbed and even destroyed the happiness of others. I
mean his conduct towards his children. His daughter, who
travelled with him, stayed with us while he visited the neigh-
bouring scenes. She might be about sixteen years old,
slender and well formed, but without elegance ; her regular
features would have been agreeable, if there had appeared in
them a trace of animation, but she was ahvays as quiet as a
statue ; she spoke seldom, and in the presence of her father
never. But she had scarcely spent a few days alone with my
mother, receiving the cheerful and affectionate attentions of
this sympathizing woman, than she threw herself at her feet
with an opened heart, and with a thousand tears, begged
to be allowed to remain with her. With the most passionate
language she declared that she would remain in the house
as a servant, as a slave all her life, rather than go back with .
her father, of whose severity and tyranny no one could form
an idea. Her brother had gone mad under his treatment;
she had hitherto borne it though with difficulty, because she
had believed that it was the same, or not much better, in
every family, but now that she had experienced such a loving,
mild and considerate treatment, her situation at home had
become to her a perfect hell. My mother was greatly moved
as she related to me this passionate effusion, and indeed, she
went so far in her sympathy, as to give me pretty clearly to
luiderstand, that she woiüd be content to keep the girl in the
house, if I would make up my mind to marry her. If she
were an orphan, I replied, I might think and talk it over,
but God keep me from a father-in-law who is such a father !
My mother took great pains Avith the poor girl, but this
made her only the more unhappy. At last an expedient
was found, by putting her to a boarding-school. Her life,
I should observe in passing, was not a very long one.

I should hardly mention this culpable peculiarity of a man
of such great deserts, if it had not already become a matter
of public notoriety, and especially had not the unfortunate
hypochondria, with Avhich, in his last hours, he tortured
himself and others, been commonly talked of. For that
severity towards his children was nothing less than hypo-
chondria, a partial insanity, a continvious moral miu-der,
which, after making his children its victims, Avas at last
directed against himself. We must also remember that

5i TRVTII AXD poetry; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

thougli app?rently in such, good health, he was a great
sufferer even in his best years; — that an incurable disease
troubled the skilful physician who had relieved, and stul
gave ease to so many of the afflicted. Yes, this distinguished
man, with all his outward reputation, fame, honour, rank,
and vrealth, led the saddest life, and Avhoever will take the
pains to learn more about it from existing publications, will
not condemn but pity him.

If it is now expected that I shall give a more precise ac-
count of the effect which this distinguished man had upon
me, I must once more recall the general features of that
period. The epoch in which we were living might be called
an epoch of high requisitions, for every one demanded of
himself and of others what no mortal had hitherto accom-
plished. On chosen spirits who coidd think and feel, a light
had arisen, which enabled them to see that an Immediate,
original understanding of natm-e, and a coiu'se of action based
upon it, was both the best thing a man coidd desu-e, and
also not difficidt to attain. Experience thus once more
became the universal watchword, and every one opened his
eyes as Avide as he coidd. Physicians, especially, had a most
pressing call to labour to this end, and the best opportunity
for finding it. Upon them a star shone out of antiquity,
which could sei-A'c as an example of all that was to be desired.
The writings which had come down to us under the name of
Hippocrates, fnrnished a model of the way in which a man
should both observe the world and relate what he had seen,
without mixing up himself with it. But no one considered
that we cannot see like the Greeks, and that we shall never
become such poets, sculptors, and physicians as they were.
Even granted that we could learn from them, stiU the results
of experience alreadv gone through, were almost beyond
number, and besides were not always of the clearest kind;
moreover had too often been made to accord with precon-
ceived opinions. All these were to be mastered, discrimi-
nated, and sifted. This also, was an immense demand.
Then again it was required that each observer, in his jier-
sonal sphere and labours, shoidd acquaint himself with the
true, healthy nature, as if she were noAV for tlie first time
noticed, and attended, and thus only what was genuii^e aud
real was to be learned. But as, in general, learning can

ZIMMEI15IAXX. 55

never exist •without the accompaiiinieut of a imiversal smat-
tering and a universal pedantry, nor the practice of any
profession without empiricism and charlataniy, so there
sprung up a violent conflict, the pm-pose of "svhich was to
guard use from abuse, and place the kernel high above the
shell in men's estimation. In the execution of this design,
it was perceived that the shortest way of getting out of the
afiair, was to call in the aid of genius, whose magic gifts
coiüd settle the strife, and accomplish what was requii'ed.
Meanwhile, however, the imderstanding meddled viith. the
matter; all it alleged must be reduced to clear notions, and
exhibited in a logical form, that every prejudice might be
put aside, and all superstition destroyed. And since the
achievements of some extraordinary men, such as Boerhaave
and Haller, were actually incredible, people thought them-
selves justified in demanding even still more from their pupils
and successors. It was maintained that the path was opened,
forgetting that in earthly things a path can very rarely be
spoken of; for, as the water that is dislodged by a ship,
instantly flows in again behind it, so by the law of its nattu-e,
when eminent spirits have once driven error aside, and made
a place for themselves, it very quickly closes upon them again.

But of this the ardent Zimmennaun could form no idea what-
ever: he would not admit that absurdity did in flict fill up the
world. Impatient, even to madness, he nished to attack every-
tbing that he saw and believed to be wrong. It was all the
same to him whether he was fighting with a nurse or with
Paracelsus, with a quack, or a chemist. His blows fell alike
hea'vily in either case, and when he had worked himself out
of breath, he was greatly astonished to see the heads of this
hydra, which he thought he had trodden under foot, springing
up all fresh again, and showing him their teeth fr-om innumer-
able jaws.

Every one who reads his writings, especially his clever
work "On Experience."" will perceive more distinctly than I
can express them, the subjects of discussion between this excel-
lent man and myself. His influence over me, was the more
powerful, as he was twenty years my senior. Having a high
reputation as a physician, he was chiefly employed among the
upper classes, and tlie corruption of the times, caused by effe-
minacy and excesSj was a constant theme of conversation with

■56 TKUTH A"ND TOETRY ; FROM MY OAVN LIFE

him. Thus his medical discourses, like those of the philoso-
phers and my poetical friends, drove me again back to nature.
In his vehement passion for improvement I could not fully
participate; on the contrary, after we separated, I instantly
drew back into my own proper calling, arid endeavoured to
employ the gifts nature had bestowed upon me, with moderate
exertion, and by good-natured opposition to what I disap-
proved of, to gain a standing for myself, in perfect indifference
how far my influence might reach or whither it might lead me.
Von Salis, who was setting vip the large boarding school
at Marschlins, visited us also at that time. He was an ear-
nest and intelligent man, and must have quietly made many
humorous observations on the irregular though genial mode
of life in oiu" little society. The same was probably the case
with Sulzer, who came in contact with us on his journey to
the south of France ; at least a passage in his travels where he
speaks of me, seems to favor this opinion.

These visits, which were as agreeable as they Avere profit-
able, were however diversified by others which wf.^ wovild
rather have been spared. Needy and shameless adventurers
fixed themselves on the confiding youth, supporting their
urgent demands by real as well as fictitious relationships and
misfortunes. They borrowed my money, and made it neces-
sary for me to borrow in tm-n, so that I in consequence fell
into the most unpleasant position with oj^ulent and kind-
hearted friends. If I wished tliat all these unfortmiate folks
were food for tlip crows, my father found himself in the situa-
tion of the magician s apprentice* Avho was willing enough
to see his house washed clean, but is frightened when the
flood ruslies in Mathout ceasing, over tlu-eshold and stairs. By
an excessive kindness, the quiet and moderate jilan of life
which my father had designed for me was step by step inter-
rupted and put off, and from day to day changed contrary to
all expectation. All idea of a long visit to Ratisborn and
Vienna was as good as given up ; but still I Avas to pass
througli those cities on my way to Italy, so as at least to gain
a general noiion of them. On the other hand, some of my
friends, who did not approve of taking so long a circuit, in
order to got into active life, recommended that I should take
advantage of a moment which seemed m every way favorable^
* The allusion is to Göthe's own poem "Der Zauhedehrling.

PLANS FOK SETTLING IN LIFE. 57

and think on a pennanent establishment in my native city.
Although the Council were closed against me, first by my
grandfather and then by my uncle, there were yet many civil
offices to which I could lay claim, where I could remain for a
time and await the future. There were agencies of several
kinds which ofiered emplojTnent enough, and the place of
a charge d'affaires was highly respectable. I suffered myself
to be persuaded, and believed also, that I might adapt myself
to this plan, without having tried whether I was suited for
such a mode of life and business as requires that amid dis-
sipation, we should most of all act for a certain end. To
these plans and designs there was now added a tender senti-
ment Avhich seemed to draw me towards a domestic life and
to accelerate my determination.

The society of young men and women already mentioned,
which was kept together by, if it did not owe its origin to, my
sister, still sui'vivcd after her marriage and departm'e, because
the members had grown accustomed to each other, and could
not spend one evening in the week better than in this friendly
circle. The eccentric orator also whose acquaintance we made
in the sixth book, had, after many adventures, returned to us,
more clever and more perverse than ever, and once again
played the legislator of the little state. As a sequel to our
foiTQcr diversions he had devised something of the same kind ;
he enacted that every week lots shoiüd be drawn, not as
before to decide what pairs should be lovers, but married
couples. How lovers should condvict themselves towards each
other, he said, we knew well enough; but of the proper deport-
ment of husbands and wives in society we were totally igno-
rant, and this, Avith our increasing years, we ought to learn
befoi-e all things. He laid down general rules, which, of course,
set forth that we must act as if we did not belong to each
other; that we must not sit or speak often together, much
less indulge in anything like caresses. And at the same time
we were not only to avoid everything which would occasion
mutual suspicion and discord, but, on the contrary, he was to
win the greatest praises, who, with his free and open manners
should yet most endear to himself his wife.

The lots were at once drawn; some odd matches that they
decided were laughed at and joked about, and the universal
marriage-corned}- _was begun in good humour and renewed
every week.

68 TKriH AND poetky; fkom my own life.

Now it fell out strangely enough, that from the first the
same lady fell twice to me. She Avas a very good creature,
just such a woman as one M'ould like to think of as a wife.
Pier figure was beautifid and weU-proportioned, her face pleas-
ing, wliile in her manners there pi'tevailed a repose which
testified to the health of her mind and body. Every day and
hour she was perfectly the same. Her domestic industrj'
was in high repute. Though she was not talkative, a just
vmderstanding and natural talents coiüd be recognised in her
language. To meet the advances of such a jjerson with
friendliness and esteem was natm-al; on a general principle
I was ah-eady accustomed to do it. and now I acted from a
sort of traditional kindness as a social dvity. But when the
lot brought us together for the third time, oxir jocose law-
giver declared in the most solemn manner that Heaven had
spoken, and we coidd not again be separated. We submitted
to his sentence, and both of us adapted ourselves so well to
cm- public conjugal duties, that we might really have sei-ved
as a model. Since all the pairs who were severally united
for the evening, were obliged by the general rules to address
each other for the few hom-s with Du (thou), we had. after
a series of weeks, grown so accustomed to this confidential
pronoun, that even in the intervals whenever we ^accidentally
came together, the Du would kindly come out.* Habit is
a strange thing; by degrees both of us found that nothiag
was more natm-al than this relation. I liked her more and
more, while her manner of treating me gave evidence of a
beautifid calm confidence, so that on many an occasion if a
priest had been present we might have been united on the
spot without much hesitation.

As at each of oiu- social gatherings something new Avas
requii-ed to be read aloud, I brought with me one evening a
perfect novelty, The INIemoir of Beaumarchais against Chnago,
in the original. It gained great applause. The thoughts to
which it gave occasion were freely expressed, and after much
had been spoken on both sides, raj partner said: "If I were
thy liege lady and not thy wife, I Avould entreat thee to

* Members of the same family address each other with the second
person singular, " Du," instead of the more formal third person plural,
"Sie." In the same way the French employ "Tu" instead of "Vous."

Trans.

THE CXAVIGO. 59

change this memoir into a play: it seems to me perfectly
suited for it." "That thou mayst see, my love," I replied,
" that liege lady and wife can be united in one person, I pro-
mise that, at the end of a week, the subject-matter of this
work, in the form of a piece for the theati-e, shall be read
aloud, as has just been done with these pages." They won-
dered at so bold a promise, but I did not delay to set about
accomplishing it. What, in such cases, is called invention,
was with me instantaneous. As I was escorting home my
titulaiy wife I was silent. She asked me what was the
matter? "lam thinking out the play," I answered, "and
have got ah-eady into the middle of it. I wished to show
thee that I would gladly do anything to please thee." She
pressed my hand, and as I in return snatched a kiss, she said:
"Thou must forget thy chai'acter! To be loving, people
think, is not proper for married folks." " Let them think,"
I rejoined, " we will have it om* own way."

Before I got home, and indeed I took a very cii'cuitous
route, the piece M-as pretty far advanced. Lest this should
seem boastful, I will confess that previously, on the first and
second reading, the subject had appeared to me dramatic
and even theatrical, but, without such a stimidus, this piece,
like so many others, would have remained among the munber
of the merely possible creations. ]\Iy mode of treating it is
well enough knoN^-n. "NV^eary of villains, who, from revenge,
hate, or mean pm-poses, attack a noble natm-e and ruin it,
I wished, in Carlos, to show the working of clear good
sense, associated Mith true friendship, against passion, inclina-
tion and outward necessity; in order, for once, to compose a
tragedy in this way. Availing myseK of the example of our
patriarch Shakspeare, I did not hesitate for a moment to
ti'anslate, word for word, the chief scene, and all that was pix)-
perly di-amatie in the original. Finally, for the conclusion, I
borrowed the end of an English ballad, and so I was ready
before the Friday came. The good effect M-hich I attained in
the reading will easily be believed. My liege spouse took
not a little pleasure in it, and it seemed as if, by this produc-
tion, as an intellectual offspring, our union was drawn closer
and dearer.

Mephistopheles Merk here did me, for the first time, a
great injuiy. When I comm\micated the piece to him he

60 TRUTH A>*D rOETPvY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE.

answered: "You must write hereafter no more such trifles;
others can do such things." In this he was wrong. We
shoukl not. in all things, transcend the notions which men
have already formed; it is good that much should be in ac-
cordance with the common way of thinking. Had I at that
time written a dozen such pieces, which with a little stimulus
would have been easy enough, three or four of them would
perhaps have retained a place on the stage. Every theatrical
manager who knows the value of a repertoire, can say what
an advantage that would have been.

By these, and other intellectual diversions, oiu- whimsical
game of marriage became a family story, if not the talk of
the town, which did not sound disagreeably in the ears of the
mothers of oiu* fair ones. My mother, also, was not at all
opposed to such an event; she had before looked with ftivor
on the lady with whom I had fallen into so strange a relation,
and did not doubt that she would make as good a daughter-
in-law as a wife. The aimless bustle in which I had for some
time lived was not to her mind, and, in fact, she had to bear
the worst of it. It was her part to provide abimdant en-
tertainment for the stream of guests, without any compensa-
tion for fiu-nishing quarters to this literary army, other than
the honor they did her son by feasting upon him. Besides,
it was clear to her that so many young persons — all of them
without property — united not only for scientific and poetic
purposes, but also for that of passing the time in the gayest
manner, would soon become a burthen and injury to them-
selves, and most certainly to me, whose thoughtless generosity
and passion for becoming security for others she too well
knew.

Accordingly, she looked on the long-planned Italian jour-
ney, which my father once more brought forward, as the best
means of cutting short all these connexions at once. But, in
order that no new danger might spring up in the wide world,
she intended first of aU to bind fast the union which had already
been suggested, so as to make a return into my native coun-
try more desirable, and my final determination more decided.
"Whether I only attribute this scheme to her, or whether she
had actually fonncd it with her departed friend, I am not quite
sure ; enough, that her actions seemed to be based on a well-
digested plan. I had \erj often to hear from her a regret

PKEPAKAXIONS FOR MY WEDDIXG. 61

that since Cornelia's marriage our family circle was altogether
too small; it was felt that I had lost a sister, my mother
an assistant, and my father a pupil; nor was this all that
was said. It happened, as if by accident, that my parents
met the lady on a walk, invited her into the garden, and
conversed with her for a long time. Thereupon there was-
some pleasantly at tea-table, and the remark was made with
a certain satisfaction that she had pleased my father, as she
possessed all the chief qualities which he as a connoisseur
of women required.

One thing after another was now arranged in our first
story, as if guests were expected; the linen was reviewed,
and some hitherto neglected furniture was thought of. One
day I surprised my mother in a garret examining the old
cradles, among which an immense one of walnut inlaid with
i\OTy and ebony, in which I had formerly been rocked, was
especially prominent. She did not seem altogether pleased
when I said to her, that such swing-boxes were quite out of
fashion, and that now people put babies, with free limbs, into
a neat little basket, and carried them about for show, by a
strap over the shoulder, like other small wares.

Enough ; — such prognostics of a renewal of domestic acti-
vity became frequent, and, as I was in ever)' way submissive,
the thought of a state which would last through life spread
a peace over our house and its inhabitants such as had not
been enjoyed for a long time.

SIXTEENTH BOOK.

What people commonly say of misfortunes : tliat they never
come alone : may with almost as much truth be said also of
good fortune, and, indeed, of other circumstances which often
cluster around us in a harmonious way ; whether it be by a
kind of fatality, or whether it be that man has the power of
attracting to himself all mutually related things.

At any rate, my present experience shewed me everj'thing
conspiring to produce an outward and an inward peace. The
former came to me while I resolved patiently to await the
result of what others were meditating and designing for me ;
the latter, however, I had to attain for myself by renewing
former studies.

I had not thought of Spinoza for a long time, and now I
was driven to him by an attack upon him. In our library I
found a little book, the author of which railed violently against
that original thinlier ; and to go the more effectually to work,
had inserted for a frontispiece a picture of Spinoza himself,
with the inscription : " Sir/mwi reprobatioms in vultu gerens^''
bearing on his face the stamp of reprobation. This there
was no gainsaying, indeed, so long as one looked at the
picture; for the engraving was wretchedly bad, a perfect
caricature ; so that I could not help thinking of those adver-
saries who, when they conceive a dislike to any one, first of
all misrepresent him, and then assail the monster of their
own creation.

This little book, however, made no impression upon me,
since generally I did not like controversial woi-ks, but preferred
always to learn from the author himself how he did think,
than to hear from another how he ought to have thought.
Still, curiosity led me to the article "Spinoza," iuBayle's Die
tionary, a work as valuable for its learning and acuteness as
it is ridiculous and pernicious by its gossiping and scandal.

The article "Spinoza" excited in me displeasure and mis-
trust. In the first place, the philosopher is represented as an
atheist, and his opinions as most abominable; but imme-
diately afterwards it is confessed that he was a cahnly refl.ec-

SPINOZA HIS PEIINCIPLES. 63

ting man, devoted to his studies, a good citizen, a sympathiz-
ing neighbour, and a peaceable individual. The Avriter seemed
to me to have quite forgotten the words of the gospel: "5y
their fruits ye shall knoiu them,'' for how could a life pleasing
in the sight of God and man spring from corrupt principles ?

I well remembered what peace of mind and clearness of
ideas came over me when I first turned over the posthumous
works of that remarkable man. The effect itself was still
quite distinct to my mind, though I could not recall the par-
ticulars; I therefore speedily had recourse again to the works
to which I had owed so mvich, and again the same cahn air
breathed over me. I gave myself up to this reading, and
believed, while I looked into myself, that I had never
before so clearly seen through the world.

As, on this subject, there alv.ays has been, and still is even
in these later times, so much controversy, I woidd not wish to
be misunderstood, and therefore I make here a few remarks
upon these so much feared, yea, abhorred views.

Our physical as well as our social life, manners, customs,
worldly ^^dsdom, philosophy, religion, and many an accidental
event, all call upon us, to deny ourselves. Äluch that is most
inwardly peculiar to us we are not allowed to develope;
much that we need from without for the completion of om*
character is withheld ; while, on the other hand, so mvich is
forced upon us which is as alien to us as it is biu-densome.
We are robbed of all that we have laboriovisly acquired for
ourselves, or friendly cü'cumstances have bestowed upon us;
and before we can see clearly what we are, we find our-
selves compelled to part with our personality, piece by piece,
till at last it is gone altogether. Indeed, the case is so
universtd that it seems a law of society to despise a man
who shows himself surly on that account. On the contraiy,
the bitterer the cup we have to drink, the more pleasant face
must one make, in order that composed lookers on may not
be offended by the least grimace.

To solve this painfid problem, however, natin-e has endowed
man with ample power, activity, and endurance. But especi-
ally is he aided therein by his volatility {Leichtsinn), a boon to
man, which nothing can take away. By its means he is able
to renounce the cherished object of the moment, if only the
nest presents him something new to reach at; and thus he

64 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

goes on unconsciously, remodelling his whole life. We are
continually putting one passion in the place of another;
employments, inclinations, tastes, hobbies — we try them aU,
only to exclaim at last, All is vanity. No one is shocked by
this false and murmuring speech; nay, every one thinks,
while he says it, that he is uttering a wise and indisputable
maxim. A few men there are, and only a few, who anticipate
this insupportable feeling, and avoid all calls to such partial
resignation by one grand act of total self-renunciation.

Such men convince themselves of the Eternal, the Neces-
sary, and of Immutable Law, and seek to form to themselves
ideas which are incorruptible, nay which observation of the
Perishable does not shake, but rather confirms. But since
in this there is something superhuman, such persons are
commonly esteemed m-human, -«äthout a God and without a
World. People hardly know what sort of horns and claws
to give them.

My confidence in Spinoza rested on the serene effect he
wrought in me, and it only increased when I found my
worthy mystics were accused of Spinozism, and learned that
even Leibnitz himself could not escape the charge ; nay, that
Boerhaave, being suspected of similar sentiments, had to
abandon Theology for Medicine.

But let no one think that I would have subscribed to his
wi'itings, and assented to them verbatim et literatim. For,
that no one really understands another ; that no one attaches
the same idea to the same word which another does; that a
dialogue, a book, excites in different persons different trains
of thought: — this I had long seen aU too plainly; and the
reader will trust the assertion of the author of Faust and
Werther, that deeply experienced in such misunderstandings,
he was never so presumptuous as to think that he understood
perfectly a man, who, as the scholar of Descartes, raised
himself, through mathematical and rabbinical studies, to the
highest reach of thought ; and whose name even at this day,
seems to mark the limit of all speculative efforts.

How much I appropriated from Spinoza, would be seen
distinctly enough, if the visit of the "Wandering Jew," to
Spinoza, which I had devised as a worthy ingredient for that
poem, existed in writing. But it pleased me so much in the
conception, and I foimd so much delight in meditating on it

IXFLXJEXCE OF SPINOZA. 65

in silence, that I never could bring myself to the point of
writing it out. llius the notion, -which would have been well
enovigh as a passing joke, expanded itself vmtil it lost its
charm, and I banished it from my mind as something trouble-
some. The chief points, however, of what I owed to my
study of Spinoza, so far as they have remained indelibly
impressed on my mind, and have exercised a great influence
on the subseqiient course of my life, I will now unfold as
briefly and succinctly as possible.

Nature works after such eternal, necessary, divine laws,
that the Deity himself could alter nothing in them. In this
belief, all men are unconsciously agreed. Think only how a
natural phenomenon, which should intimate any degree of
understanding, reason, or even of caprice, would instantly
astonish and terrify us.

If anything like reason shows itself in brutes, it is long
before we can recover ffom oiu- amazement: for, although
they stand so near to us, they nevertheless seem to be divided
from us by an infinite gulf, and to belong altogether to the
kingdom of necessity. It is therefore impossible to take it ill
if some thinkers have pronounced the infinitely ingenious,
but strictly limited, organisation of those creatm-es, to be
thoroughly mechanical.

If we tm-n to plants, our position is still more strikingly
confirmed. How unaccoimtable is the feeling which seizes an
obsei"A'er upon seeing the Mimosa, as soon as it is touched,
fold together in pairs its douNTiy leaves, and finally clap down
its little stalk as if upon a joint [Geiverhe). Still higher rises
that feeling, to which I will give no name, at the sight of the
Hedysarum GyrcDis, which Avithout any apparent outward
occasion moves up and down its little leaves, and seems to
play with itself as with our thoughts. Let us imagine a
Banaiia, suddenly endowed with a similar capacity, so
that of itself it could by turns let down and lift up again
its huge leafy canopy; who would not, upon seeing it the first
time, start back in terror? So rooted within us is the idea of
our own superiority, that we absolutely refuse to concede to
the outward world any part or portion in it; nay, if we could,
we would too often withhold such advantages from our
fellows.

On the other hand, a similar horror seizes upon us, when.
Vol. II. p

66 TKUTir AND poetkt; feom my own life,

"we see a man unreasonably opposing universally recognised
moral laws, or unwisely acting against the interest of himself
and others. To get rid of the repugnance which we feel on
such occasions, we convert it at once into censure or detesta-
tion, and we seek either in reality or in thought to get free
from such a man.

This contrariety between Reason and Necessity, which
Spinoza threw out in so strong a light, I, strangely enough,
applied to my own being; and what has been said is, pro-
perly speaking, only for the purpose of rendering intelligible
what follows.

I had come to look upon my indwelling poetic talent
altogether as Nature; the more so, as I had always been
impelled to regard outward Nature as its proper object.
The exercise of this poetic gift could indeed be excited and
determined by circumstances ; but its most joyfid, its richest
action was spontaneous — nay, even involuntary.

Through field and forest roaming,
My little songs still humming.
So went it aU day long.

In my nightly \^gils the same thing happened ; I therefore
often wished, like one of my predecessors, to get me a
leathern jerkin made, and to accustom myself to write in the
dark so as to be able to fix down at once all such impre-
meditated efiusions. So frequently had it happened that
after composing a little piece in my head I could not recall
it, that I would now hurry to the desk and, at one stand-
ing, ■RTite off the poem from beginning to end, and as I
could not spare time to adjust my paper, however obliquely
it might lie, the lines often crossed it diagonally. In such a
mood I liked best to get hold of a lead pencil, because I
could write most readily with it ; whereas the scratching and
spluttering of the pen would sometimes wake me from my
somnambular poetizing, confuse me, and stifle a little concep-
tion in its birth. For the poems thus created I had a par-
ticular reverence; for I felt towards them somewhat as the
hen does towards her chickens, which she sees hatched and
chii-ping about her. My old whim of making laiown these
things only by means of private readings, now retm*ned to
me : to exchange them for money seemed to me detestable.

HIMBUEG THE PIRATICAL BOOKSELLEK. 67

And this suggests to me to mention in the present place a
little incident, which hoAvever did not take place till some time
after. When the demand for my Avorks had increased and a
collected edition of them was much called for, these feelings
held me back from preparing it myself; Himbm-g, however,
took advantage of my hesitation, and I imexpectedly received
one day several copies of my collected works in print. "With
cool audacity this unauthorized publisher even boasted of
having done me a public service, aud offered to send me, if I
wished, some Berlin porcelain by way of compensation. His
offer served to remind me of the law which compelled the
Jews of Berlin, when they married, to purchase a certain
quantity of porcelain, m order to keep up the sale of the
Eoyal manufactiu-e. The contempt which was shewn for
the shameless pii-ate, led me to suppress the indignation
which I could not but feel at such a robbery. I gave him no
reply; and while he was making himself very comfortable
with my property, I revenged myself in silence with the
following verses : —

Records of the years once dream'd away,
Long fallen hairs, and flow'rs that shew decay,
Faded ribbons, veils so lightly wove.
The mournful pledges of a vanished love ;
Things that to the flames slioidd long have gone,
—Saucy Sosias snatches every one.
Just as though he were the heir to claim,
Lawfully the poets' works and fame.
And to make the owner full amends
Paltiy tea and coffee-cups he sends !
Take yoiu- china back, your gingerbread!
For all Himburgs living I am dead.

This very Nature, however, which thus spontaneously
brought forth so many longer aud smaller works, was subject
to loug pauses, and for considerable periods I was imablö,
even when I most wished it, to produce anj-thing, and con-
sequently often suffered from ennui. The perception of
such contrasts within me gave rise to the thought whether it
would not be my wisest course to employ on the other hand
for my own and others' profit and advantage, the humaQ,
rational, aud intellectual pai-t of my being, and so as I already

F 2

CS TRUTH AND POETRY; FROJI MY OAVN LIFE.

tad done, and as I now felt myself more and more called iipon
to do, devote the intervals when Nature ceased to influence me,
to worldly occupations, and thus to leave no one of my faculties
imused. This course, which seemed to be dictated by those
general ideas before described, was so much in harmony with
my character and my position in life, that I resolved to adopt
it and by tliis means to check the wavering and hesitation to
M'hich I had hitherto been subject. Very pleasant was it to
me to reflect, that thus for actual service to my fellow men,
I might demand a substantial reward, while on the other hand
I might go on disinterestedly spending that lovely gift of
nature as a sacred thing. By this consideration I guarded
against the bitterness of feeling which might have arisen
when circumstances should force upon the remark that pre-
cisely this talent, so courted and admired in Germany, was
treated as altogether beyond the pale of the law and of justice.
For not only were piracies considered perfectly allowable,
and even comical in Berlin, but the estimable Margrave of
Baden, so praised for his administrative virtues, and the
Emperor Joseph who had justified so many hopes, lent their
sanction, one to his Macklot, and the other to his honorable
noble von Trattner; and it was declared, that the rights, as
well as the property of genius, should be left at the absolute
mercy of the trade.

One day, when we were complaining of this to a visitor
from Baden, he told us the following story : Her ladyship
the Margravine, being a very active lady, had established a
paper-manufactoi-y; but the paper was so bad, that it was
impossible to dispose of it. Thereupon Mr. bookseller Mack-
lot proposed, if he were permitted to print the German poets
and prose writers, he would use this paper, and thus enhance
its value. The proposition was adojited with avidity.

Of course, we pronounced this malicious piece of scandal
to be a more fabrication ; but found our pleasure in it not-
withstanding. The name of Macklot became a by-word at
„the time, and was applied by us to all mean transactions.
And, a ver.s.itile youth, often reduced to borrowing himself,
•while others' meanness was making itself rich upon his
,talents, felt himself sufficiently compensated by a couple of
,good jokes

A SCENE AT A FIEE. 69

Children and youths wander on in a sort of happy intoxica-
tion, wliich betrays itself especially in the fact, that the good,
innocent creatures are scarcely able to notice, and still less
to understand, the ever changing state of things around them.
They regard the world as raw material which they must shape,
as a treasure which they must take possession of. Eveiything
they seem to think belongs to them, everything must be
subservient to their will; indeed, on this accomit, the greater
part lose themselves in a wild uncontrollable temper. With
the better part, however, this tendency unfolds itself into a
moral enthusiasm, which, occasionally moves of its own
accord after some actual or seeming good, but still oftener
suffers itself to be prompted, led, and even misled.

Such was the case with the youth of whom we are at
present speaking, and if he appeared rather strange to man-
kind, stlU he seemed welcome to many. At the very first
meeting you found in him a freedom from reserve, a cheerful,
open-heartedness in conversation, and in action the unpreme-
ditated suggestions of the moment. Of the latter trait a
story or two.

In the close-built Jews' street [Judengasse), a violent con-
flagration had broken out. ]\Iy imiversal benevolence, which,
prompted me to lend my active aid to all, led me to the spot,
full di-essed as I was. A passage had been broken through
from All Saints' street (^AllerheiUgejigasse), and thither I
repaired. I found a great number of men busied with carry-
ing water, rushing forward with fuU buckets, and back again
with empty ones, I soon saw that, by forming a lane for
passing up and doMTi the buckets, the help we rendered might
be doubled. I seized two full buckets and remained standing
and called others to me; those who came on were relieved of
their load, while those returning ai'ranged themselves in a
row on the other side. The arrangement was applauded, my
address and personal sympathy fovmd favor, and the lane,
unbroken from its commencement to its burning goal, was-
80on completed. Scarcely, however, had the cheerfulness
which this inspired, called forth a joyous, I might even say, a
merry humor in this living machine, all of whose parts
worked well together, when wantonness began to appear, and
was soon succeeded by a love of mischief. The Avretched
fugitives, dragging off their miserable substance upon their

70 TKUTH AND poetry; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

backs, if they once got within the lane, must pass on without
stopping, and if they ventured to halt for a moment's rest, '
were immediately assailed. Savicy boys Avould sprinkle them
with the Avater, and even add insult to misery. However, by
means of gentle words and eloquent reproofs, prompted per-
haj)s by a regard to my best clothes, which wore in danger,
I managed to put a stop to their rudeness.

Some of my friends had from curiosity approached, to gaze
on the calamity, and seemed astonished to see their com-
panion, in thin shoes and silk stockings — for that was then
the fashion — engaged in this wet business. But few of them
could I persuade to join us; the others laughed and shook
their heads. We stood our ground, however, a long while,
for, if any were tired and went away, there were plenty
ready to take their places. Many sight-seers, too, came
merely for the sake of the spectacle, and so my innocent
daring became universally knoMTi, and the strange disregard
of etiquette became the town-talk of the day.

This readiness to do any action that a good-natured whim
might prompt, which proceeded from a happy self-conscious-
ness which men are apt to blame as vanity, made our friend
to be talked of for other oddities.

A very inclement winter had completely covered the Main
M-ith ice, and converted it into a solid floor. The liveliest
intercourse, both for business and jileasure, was kept up on
the ice. Boundless skating-paths, and Avide, smooth frozen
plains, swarmed with a moving multitude. I never failed to
be there early in the morning, and once, being lightly clad,
felt myself nearly frozen through by the time that my mother
arrived, who usually came at a later hour to visit the scene.
She sat in the carriage, in her jiurple-velvet and fur-trimmed
cloak, which, held together on her breast by a strong golden
cord and tassel, looked qviite fine. "Give me your furs, dear
mother!" I cried out on the instant, without a moment's
thought, "I am terribly frozen." She, too, did not stop
to think, and so in a moment I was wrapped in her cloak.
Reaching half-way below my knees with its purple-colom',
sable-border, and gold trimmings, it contrasted not badly
with the brown fur cap I wore. Thus clad, I carelessly went
on skating up and down ; the crowd Avas so great that no
especial natice was taken of my strange appearance; stul it

INXKODTJCIION TO XILLI. 71

was not luiobserved, for often afterwards it was brought up,
in jest or in earnest, among my other eccentricities.

Leaving these recollections of happy and spontaneous
action, we wül now resume the sober thread of our narra-
tive.

A witty Frenchman has said : If a clever man has once
attracted the attention of the pubHc by any meritorious work,
every one does his best to prevent his ever doing a similar
thing again.

It is even so : something good and spirited is produced in
the quiet seclusion of youth; applause is won, but indepen-
dence is lost; the concenti'ated talent is piüled about and
distracted, because people think that they may pluck off and
appropriate to themselves a portion of the personality.

It was owing to this that I received a great many invita-
tions, or, rather, not exactly in^dtations : a friend, an acquaint-
ance would propose, with even more than urgency, to intro-
duce me here or there.

The quasi stranger, now described as a bear on accoimt of
his frequent surly refusals, and then again like Voltaire's
Huron, or Cumberland's West Indian, as a child of natiu'e
in spite of many talents, excited cui-iosity, and in various
families negotiations were set on foot to see him.

Among others, a friend one evening entreated me to go
with him to a little concert to be given in the house of an
eminent merchant of the reformed persuasion. It was already
late; but as I loved to do evei'ji;hing on the spur of the
moment, I went with liim, decently di-essed, as usual. We
entered a chamber on the ground floor, — the ordinary but
spacious sitting-room of the family. The company was
numerous, a piano stood in the middle, at which the only
daughter of the house sat down immediately, and played with
considerable facility and grace. I stood at the lower end of
the piano, that I might be near enovigh to observe her fonn
and bearing; there was something child-like in her manner;
the movements she was obliged to make in playing were
unconstrained and easy.

After the sonata was finished, she stepped towards the end
of the piano to meet me; we merely saluted, however,
without further conversation, for a quartet had already com-

72 TRUTH AXD TOETRY ; FROM MY OAVN LIFE.

menced. At the close of it, I moved somewhat nearer and
uttered some civil compliment ; tellin<T her what pleasure it
gave me that my first acquaintance with her should have also
made me acquainted with her talent. She managed to make
a very clever reply, and kept her position as I did mine. I
saw that she observed me closely, and that I was really stand-
ing for a show ; but I took it all in good part, since I had
something graceful to look at in my turn. Meanwhile, we
gazed on one another, and I will not deny that I was sen-
sible of feeling an attractive power of the gentlest kind. The
mo^äng about of the company, and her performances, pre-
vented any further approach that evening. But I must con-
fess that I was anything but displeased, when, on taking
leave, the mother gave me to \mderstand that they hoped
soon to see me again, while the daughter seemed to join in
the request with some friendliness of manner. I did not fail,
at suitable intervals, to repeat my visit, since, on such occa-
sions, I was sure of a cheerful and intellectual conversation,
which seemed to prophesy no tie of passion.

In the meantime, the hospitality of our house once laid
open caused many an inconvenience to my good parents and
myself. At any rate it had not proved in any way beneficial
to my steadfast desire to notice the Higher, to study it, to
further it, and if possible to imitate it. Men, I saw, so far as
they were good, were pious ; and, so far as they were active,
were iui\vise and oftentimes unapt. The former could not
help me, and the latter only confused me. One remarkable
case I have carefully written down.

In the beginning of the year 1775, Jung, afterwards
called Stilling, from the Lower Rhine, announced to us that he
was coming to Frankfort, being inv-ited as an oculist, to treat
an important case ; the news was welcome to my parents and
myself, and we offered him quarters.

Herr von Lersner, a worthy man advanced in years, univer-
sally esteemed for his success in the education and training
of princely children, and for his intelligent manners at coiul^
and on his travels, had been long afilictcd with total blind-
ness ; his strong hope of obtaining some relief of his affliction
withnot entirely extinct. Now, for several years past, Jung,
was skilful boldness and a steady hand, had, in the Lower Rhine,
successfully couched for the cataract, and thus had gained a

JUNG OR STILLING. 73

wäde-spread reputation. The candor of his sou], his truth
fuhiess of character, and g;enuiue piety, gained him universal
confidence ; this extended up the river through the niedimr
of various parties connected by business. Herr von Lersner
and his friends, upon the advice of an intelligent physician,
resolved to send for the successful oculist, although a Frank-
fort merchant, in whose case the cure had failed, earnestly
endeavored to dissuade them. But what was a single failure
against so many successful cases ! So Jung came, enticed by
the hope of a handsome remuneration, which heretofore he
had been accustomed to renounce ; he came, to increase his
reputation, full of confidence and in high spirits, and we con-
gratulated ourselves on the prospect of such an excellent and
lively table-companion.

At last, after a preparatory course of medicine, the cataract
upon both eyes was couched. Expectation was at its height.
It was said that the patient saw the moment after the o]:)rra-
tion, until the bandage again shut out the light. But iL was
remarked that Jung was not cheerful, and that something
weighed on his spirits; indeed, on further inquirj- he con-
fessed to me that he was uneasy as to the result of the opera-
tion. Commonly, for I had witnessed several operations of
the kind in Strasburg, nothing in the world seemed easier
than such cases; and Stilling himself had operated success-
fully a hundred times. After piercing the insensible cornea,
which gave no pain, the dull lens would, at the slightest pres-
sure, spring forward of itself; the patient immediately dis-
cerned objects, and only had to wait \\'ith bandaged eyes,
until the completed cure should allow him to use the precious
organ at his own will and convenience. IIoav many a poor
man, for whom Jung had procured this happiness, had
invoked God"s blessing and reward upon his benefactor,
which was now to be realized by means of this wealthy
patient !

Jung confessed to me that this time the operation had not
gone off so easily and so successfully ; the lens had not sprung
forward, he had been obliged to draw it out, and indeed, as
it had groAATi to the socket, to loosen it ; and this he was not
able to do -w-ithout violence. He now reproached himself for
having operated also on the other eye. But Lersner and liis
friends had firmly resolved to have both couched at the same

74 TRUTH AXD POETKY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE,

time, and when the emergency occurred, they did not imme-
diately recover presence of mind enough to think what was
best. Suffice it to say, the second lens also did not spontane-
ously spring forward; but had to be loosened and di-a-WTa out
with difficulty.

How much pain our benevolent, good-natm-ed, pious fi'iend
felt in this case, it is impossible to describe or to vmfold; some
general observations on his state of mind will not be out of
place here.

To labor for his own moral culture, is the simplest and
most pi'acticable thing wliich man can propose to himself;
the ijnpulse is inborn in him ; while in social life both reason
and love, prompt or rather force him to do so.

Stilling could only live in a moral religious atmosphere o£
love; without s}Tnpathy, without hearty response, he could
not exist; he demanded mutual attachment; where he was-
not kno^NTi, he was silent; where he was only known, not
loved, he Avas sad; accordingly he got on best with those
well-disposed persons, who can set themselves down for life
in their assigned vocation and go to work to perfect them-
selves in their narrow but peaceful sphere.

Such persons succeed pretty well in stifling vanity, in
renouncing the pui'suit of outward power, in acquiring a cir-
cumspect way of speaking, and in preserving a imiformly
ffiendly manner towards companions and neighbors.

Frequently we may observe in this class traces of a certain
form of mental character, modified by indi\idual varieties ;
such persons, accidentally excited, attach great weight to the
course of their experience ; they consider everything a super-
natural determination, in the conviction that God interferes
immediately with the com-se of the world.

With all this there is associated a certain disposition to
abide in his present state, and yet at the same time to allow
themselves to be pushed or led on, which results from a certain
indecision to act of themselves. The latter is increased by
the miscarriage of the wisest plans, as well as by the acci-
dental success brought about by the xmforeseen concmTence
of favorable occurrences.

Now, since a vigilant manly character is much checked by
this way of hfe, it is well worthy of reflection and inquiry,
how men ai-e most liable to fall into such a state.

STILLING. 75^

The things sympathetic persons of this kind love most to
talk of, are the so-called aM-akenings and conversions, to
which we wiU not deny a certain psychological value. They
are properly what we call in scientific and poetic matters, an
^'■apergu;" the perception of a gi-eat maxim, which is always
a geniiis-like operation of the mind ; we arrive at it by pm-e
intuition, that is, by reflection, neither by learning or tradi-
tion. In the cases before us it is the perception of the moral
power, which anchors in faith, and thus feels itself ia proud
secui'ity in the midst of the waves.

Such an apercu gives the discoverer the greatest joy, because,
in an original manner, it points to the infinite ; it requires no
length of time to work con^-iction ; it leaps forth whole and
complete in a moment ; hence the quaint old French rh}'me :

En pen d"heure
Dieu labem-e.

Outward occasions often work violently iu bringing about
such conversions, and then people think they see in them
signs and wonders.

Love and confidence bound me most heartily to Stilling; --^
I had moreover exercised a good and happy influence on his
life, and it was quite in accordance with his disposition, to
treasure up in a tender grateful heart the remembrance of all
that had ever been done for him ; but in my existing frame
of mind and pursuits his society neither benefited nor cheered
me. I was glad to let every one interpret as he pleased and
work out the riddle of his days, but this way of ascribing to ^
an immediate divine influence, all the good that after a
rational manner occurs to us in oui* chanceful life, seemed
to me too presumptuous; and the habit of regarding the
painful consequences of the hasty acts and omissions of our
own thoughtlessness or conceit, as a divine chastisement, did
not at all suit me. I could, therefore, only listen to my good
Mend, but could not give him any very encouraging reply;
stul I readily sufiered him, like so many others, to go his
own way, and defended him since then, as well as before,
when others, of too worldly a mind, did not hesitate to woimd
his gentle natm-e. Thus I never allowed a roguish remark
to come to his ears, made by a waggish man who once very
earnestly exclaimed: "No! indeed, if I were as intimate

76 TKXJTH AXD POETRY; PROM MY OTVX LIFE.

with God as Jung is, I would never pray to the Most High
for gold, but for wisdom and good counsel, that I might not
make so many blunders which cost money, and draw after
them MTetched yeai"s of debt."

In truth, it was no time for such jests. Between hope and
fear several more days passed away; with him the latter
grew, the former waned, and, at last, vanished altogether : the
eyes of the good patient man had become inflamed, and there
remained no doubt that the operation had failed.

The state of mind to which our friend was reduced hereby,
is not to be described ; he was struggling against the deepest
and worst kind of despair. For what was there now that he
had not lost! In the first place, the warm thanks of one
restored to sight — the noblest reward which a physician can.
enjoy; then the confidence of others similarly needing help;
then liis worldly credit, while the intemiption of his pecidiar
practice would reduce his family to a helpless state. In
short, we played the mournful di-ama of Job through fi-om
beginning to end, since the faithful Jung took himself the
part of the reproving friends. He chose to regard this cala-
init\' as the punishment of his fonncr faults ; it seemed to
him that in taking his accidental discovery of an eye-cure as
a divine call to that business, he had acted M-ickedly and pro-
fanelv; he reproached himself for not ha'S'ing thoroughly
studied this highly important department, instead of lightly
trusting his cures to good fortune : what his enemies had said
of him reciuTcd again to his mind; he began to doubt
whether perhaps it was not all true r and it pained him the
more deeply when he foimd that in the course of his life he
had been guilty of that le^^ity which is so dangerous to pious
men, and also of presumption and vanity. In such moments
he lost himself, and in whatever light we might endeavour to
set the matter, we, at la.st, elicited from him only the rational
and necessary conclusion — that the ways of God are imsearch-
able.

My unceasing efibrts to be cheerfid, would have been
more checked by Jung"s visit, if I had not, according to my
usual habit, subjected his state of mind to an earnest friendly
examination, and explained it after my own fashion. It
vexed me not a little to see my good mother so poorly
rewarded for her domestic cai'e and pains-takmg, though she

stillikg's je"\v patient. 77

did not herself perceh^e it, with her usual equanimity' and
ever bustling activity. I was most pained for my father.
On my account he, with a good grace, had enlarged what
hitherto had been a strictly close and private circle, and at
table especially, where the presence of strangers attracted
famiUar friends and even passing A-isitors, he liked to indulge
in a merry, even paradoxical conversation, in which I put
him in good humor and drew from him many an approved
smile, by all sorts of dialectic pugilism : for I had an ungodly
way of disputing everything, which, however, I pertinaciously
kept up in eveiy case so long only as he, Avho maintained the
right, was not yet made perfectly ridiculous. Dm-ing the
last few Aveeks, however, this procedure was not to be thought
of; for many veiy happy and most cheering incidents, occa-
sioned by some successful secondary cures on the part of oiu-
friend, who had been made so miserable by the foilm-e of his
principal attempt, did not affect him, much less did they give
his gloomy mood another turn.

One incident in particular was most amusing. Among
Jung's patients there was a blind old Jewish beggar, who
had come from Isenburg to Frankfort, where in the extremity
of wretchedness, he scarcely found a shelter, scarcely the
meanest food and attendance ; nevertheless his tough oriental
natm'C helped him through and he was in raptures to find
himself healed perfectly and without the least suffering.
When asked if the operation pained him, he said, in his
hyperbolical manner, " If I had a million eyes, I would let
them aU be operated upon, one after the other, for half a
Kopfstück^." On his departure he acted quite as eccentiically
in the Fakrgasse (or main thoroughfare) ; he thanked God,
and in good old testament style, praised the Lord and the
wondrous man whom He had sent. Shouting this he walked
slowly on through the long busy street towards the bridge.
Buyers and sellers ran out of the shops, surprised by this
singular exhibition of pious enthusiasm, passionately venting
itself before all the world, and he excited their sympathy to
such a degree, that, without asking anything, he was amply
furnished yä\h. gifts for his traveUing expenses.

This lively incident, however, could hardly be mentioned

* A coin, with the head of the sovereign stamped upon it, generally
worth 4^ good groschen. — Tr.'Vns.

78 TRUTH AXD TOETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

in our cii-cle ; for though the poor A^Tetch, with all his
domestic misery, in his sandy home beyond the ]\Iain, could
still be coimted extremely happy; the man of Avealth and
dignity on this side of the river, for whom we were most
interested, had missed the priceless relief so confidently
expected.

It was sickening, therefore, to our good Jung to receive the
thousand guilders, which, being stipulated in any case, were
honorably paid by the high-minded sufferer. This ready
money was destined to liquidate, on his retmn, a portion of
the debts, which added their- burden to other sad and mihappy
circumstances.

And so he went off inconsolable, for he could not help
thinking of his meeting with his care-worn wife, the changed
manner of her parents, who, as sureties for so many debts of
this too confiding man, might, however well-wishing, consider
they had made a great mistake in the choice of a partner for
their daughter. In this and that house, from this and that
window, he could already see the scornful and contemptuous
looks of those who even when he was prospering, had wished
him no good; while the thought of a practice interrupted
by his absence, and likely to be materially damaged by his
faihu'e, troubled him extremely.

And so we took our leave of him, not without all hope on
om- parts ; for his strong nature, sustained by faith in super-
natural aid, could not but inspire his friends with a quiet and
moderate confidence.

SEVENTEENTH BOOK.

Ix resuming the histoiy of my relation to Lili, I have to
mention the many very pleasant hours I spent in her society,
partly in the presence of her mother, partly alone with her.
On the strength of my writings, people gave me credit for
knowledge of the human heart, as it was then called, and
in this view our conversations were morally interesting in
every way.

But how could we talk of such inward matters without
coming to mutual disclosures? It was not long before, in
a quiet horn-, Lili told me the history of her youth. She had
gro^\^l up in the enjoyment of all the advantages of society
and worldly comforts. She described to me her brothers, her
relations, and all her nearest connexions ; only her mother
was kept in a respectful obscurity.

Little weaknesses, too, were thought of; and among them
she coidd not deny, that she had often remarked in herself a
certain gift of attracting others, with which, at the same
time, was united a certain peculiarity of letting them go
again. By prattling on we thus came at last to the important
point, that she had exercised this gift upon me too, but had
been punished for it, since she had been attracted by me also.

These confessions flowed forth from so pui-e and childlike a
nature, that by them she made me entirely her ovsti.

We were now necessarj" to each other, we had grown
into the habit of seeing each other; but how many a day,
hoAV many an evening tül far into the night, should I have
had to deny myself her company, if I had not reconciled
myself to seeing her in her own circles! This was a som-ce
of manifold pain to me.

My relation to her Avas that of a character to a character —
I looked upon her as, to a beautiful, amiable, highly accom-
plished daughter ; it was like my earlier attachments, but
was of a still higher kind. Of outward circumstances, how-
ever, of the interchange of social relations, I had never thought.
An irresistible longing reigned in me ; I could not be without
her, nor she without me; btit from the circle which surrounded

80 TRUTH AND POETRY ; TllOM MY OWX LIFE.

lier, and through the interference of its individual members,
how many days were spoiled, how many hours wasted.

Tlie historj- of pleasm-e parties which ended in dis-pleasure;
a retarding brother, M'hom I was to accompany, who would
hov.'evcr always be stopping to do some business or other
■which perhaps somewhat maliciously he was in no hurry to
finish, and would thereby spoil the whole well-concerted plan
for a meeting, and ever so much more of accident and disap-
pointment, of impatience and privation, — all these little
troubles, which, circumstantially set forth in a romance,
would certainly find sympathizing readers, I must here omit.
However, to bring this merely contemplative account nearer
to a living experience to a youthful sympathy, I may insert
some songs, which are indeed well kno'R'n but are perhaps
especially impressive in this place.

Heart, my heart, 0, what hath changed thee?

"NMiat doth weigh on thee so sore?
"VMiat hath from myself estranged thee,

That I scarcely know thee more ?
Gone is all which once seemed dearest,
Gone the care which once was nearest

Gone thy toils and tranquil bliss,

Ah ! how couldst thou come to this ?

Docs that bloom so fresh and youthful,—

That divine and lovely form, —
That sweet look, so good and truthful.

Bind thee with resistless charm?
If I swear no more to see her,
If I man myself, and flee her,

Soon I find my efforts vain

Forc'd to seek her once again.

She with magic thread has bound me.

That defies my strength or skill,
She has di-awn a circle round me.

Holds me fast against my wiU.
Cruel maid, her charms enslave me,
I must live as she would have me,

Ah ! how great the change to me !

Love! when wilt thou set me free!

LILLl's SOIREES. '^ 81

"With resistless power why dost thou press me

Into scenes so bright r
Had I not — good youth — so much to bless me

In the lonely night ?

In my little chamber close I found me,

In the moon's cold beams;
And their quivering light fell softly round me,

Whue I lay in dreams.

And by hours of piu'e, immingled pleasure,

AU my dreams were blest,
"While I felt her image, as a treasiu-e,

Deep within my breast.

Is it I, she at the table places,

'Mid so many lights?
Yes, to meet intolerable faces,

She her slave invites.

Ah ! the Spring's fresh fields no longer cheer me^

Flowers no sweetness bring ;
Angel, where thou art, all sweets arc near me, —

Love, Nature, and Spring.

"^^Tioever reads these songs attentively to himself or better
stiU, sings them with feehng, will certainly feel a breath of
the fulness of those happy hours stcaHng over him.

But we will not take leave of that greater, and more bril-
liant society', Avithout adding some further remarks, especially
to explain the close of the second poem.

She, whom I was only accustomed to see in a simple dress-
which was seldom changed, now stood before me on such
occasions in all the splendor of elegant fashion, and still she
was the same. Her usual grace and kindliness of manner
remained, only I should say her gift of attracting shone more
conspicuous ; — perhaps, because brought into contact with
several persons, she seemed called upon to express herself
with more animation, and to exhibit herself on more sides, as
various characters approached her. At any rate. I coidd
not deny, on the one hand, that these strangers were annoy-
ing to me, while on the other I would not for a great deal
have deprived myself of the pleasiu'e of witnessing her talents
Vox. II. G

82 TRUTH AND POETRY; fro:m: my own life.

for society, aucl of seeing that she was made for a wider and
more general sphere.

Though covered with ornaments it was still the same
bosom that had opened to me its inmost secrets, and into
which I coidd look as clearly as into my own; they were still
the same lips that had so lately described to me the state of
things amidst which she had grown up, and had spent her
early years. Every look that we interchanged, every accom-
panpng smile, bespoke a noble feeling of mutual intelligence,
and I was myseK astonished, here in the crowd, at the secret
innocent understanding Avhich existed between us in the most
human, the most natm-al way.

But with returning spring, the pleasant freedom of the
country was to knit still closer these relations. Offenbach on
the ^Nlaiu showed even then the considerable beginnings of a
city, which promised to form itself in time. Beautiful, and for
the times, splendid buildings, were ah-eady erected. Of these
Uncle Bernard, (to call him by his familiar title) inhabited the
largest; extensive factories were adjoining; D"Or\ille, a
lively yoimg man of amiable qualities, lived opposite. Con-
tiguous gardens and terraces, reaching down to the Main, and
affording a free egress in eveiy direction into the lovely sur-
rounding sceirery, put both visitors and residents in excellent
humor. The lover could not find a more desii-able spot for
indulging his feelings.

I lived at the house of John Andre, and since I am here
forced to mention this mau, who afterwards made himself
well enough known, I must indiüge in a short digression, in
order to give some idea of the state of the Opera at that
time.

In Frankfort, ISIarchand was director of the theatre, and
exerted himself in his own person to do all that was possible.
In his best years he had been a fine, large well-made man, the
cvisy and gentle quaUties appeared to predominate in his cha-
racter; his presence on the stage, therefore, was agreeable
enough. He had perhaps as much voice as was required for
the execution of any of the musical works of that day ; accor-
dingly he endeavoured to adapt to om- stage the large and
smaller French operas.

The part of the father in Gre try's opera of " Beauty and
the Beast," particularly suited him and his acting was qmti

AXDEE-EWALD — BL'EGEIl's LEOXOKE. 83

expressive in the scene of the Vision which was contrived at
the back of the stage.

This opera, successful in its way, approached, however the
loft}' stj'lc, and was calculated to excite the tenderest feelings.
On the other hand a Demon of Realism had got possession of
the opera-house ; operas founded upon different crafts and
classes were brought out. The Huntsmen, the Coopers, and I
know not what else, were produced ; Andre chose the Potter.
He had written the words himself, and upon that part of the
text which belonged to him, had lavished his whole musical
talent.

I was lodging with him, and will only say so much as occa-
sion demands of this ever ready poet and composer.

He was a man of an innate lively talent and M-as settled at
Ofifenbach, Avhere he properly carried on a mechanical busines
and manufactm-e ; he floated betM-een the chapel-master (or
Precentor) and the dilettante. In the hope of meriting the
former title, he toiled very earnestly to gain a thorough
knowledge of the science of music ; in the latter character he
was inclined to repeat his own compositions without end.

Among the persons who at this time were most active in
filling and enlivening our circle, the pastor Ewald must be
first named. In society an intellectual agreeable companion,
he stiU carried on in private quietly and diligently the
studies of his profession, and in fact afterwards honoiirably
distinguished himself in the province of theology. Ewald in
short was an indispensable member of our circle, being qmck
alike of comprehension and reply.

Lilli's pianoforte-playing completely fettered our good
Andi-e to om- society ; what with instructing, conducting, and
executing, there were few hours of the day or night in
which he ■sy as not either in the family cii-cle or at our social
parties.

Burger's " Leonore,*' then but just published, and received
with enthusiasm by the Germans, had been set to music by
by him; this piece he was always forward to execute however
often it might be encored.

I too, who was in the habit of repeating pieces of poetry
with animation, was always ready to recite it. Our friends
at this time did not get weary of the constant repetition of
the same thing. When the company had their choice

G 2

84 TRUTH AND rOETRY; FROM MY OAVN JATE.

wliicli of US they would rather hear, the decision Avas often m
my favour.

"All this (however it might be) served to prolong the inter-
coiu-se of the lovers. They knew no bounds, and between them
both they easily managed to keep the good John Ancbe con-
tinually in motion, that by repetitions he might make his
music last till midnight. The two lovers thus seciu'cd for
themselves, a precious and indispensable opportunity.

If we '«•alked out early in the morning, we found ourselves
in the freshest air, but not precisely in the coimtry. Impos-
ing buildings, which at that time would have done honor to a
city ; gardens, spreading before us and easily overlooked, witli
their smooth flower and ornamental beds; a clear prospect
commanding the opposite banks of the river, over whose
surface even at an early hour might be seen floating a busy
line of rafts or nimble market-skifis and boats — these toge-
ther formed a gently gliding, living woi'ld, in harmony with
love's tender feelings, l^ven the lonely rippling of the waACS
and rustling of the reeds in a softly flowing stream was higldy
refreshing, and never failed to throw a decidedly tranquilliz-
ing spell over those who approached the spot. A clear sky
of the finest season of the year overarched the whole, and
most pleasant was it to renew morning after morning her dear
society, in the midst of such scenes !

Should such a mode of life seem too in-egular, too trivial to
the earnest reader, let him consider that between what is here
brought closely together for the sake of a convenient order,
there intervened whole days and weeks of renmiciation, other
engagements and occupations, and indeed an insupportable
tedium.

jSIen and women were busily engaged in their spheres o».
duty. I, too, out of regard for the present and the future,
delayed not to attend to all my obligations ; and I found time
enough to finish that to which my talent and my passion
irresistibly impelled me.

The earliest hours of the morning I devoted to poetry; the
middle of the day was assigned to worldly business, which
was handled in a manner quite peculiar. My father, a
thorough and indeed finished jurist, managed himself sxich
business as arose from the care of his own jiroperty, and a
connexion with highly valued friends; for although liis.

jMT avokldly affaiks. 85

character as Imperial Councillor did not allow him to practise,
he Avas at hand as legal adviser to many a friend, while the
papers he had prepared were signed by a regular advocate,
who received a consideration for every such signature.

This activity of his had now become more lively since
my retiuni, and I could easily remark, that he prized my
talent higher than my practice, and on that accomit did what
he could to leave me time for my poetical studies and produc-
tions. Sound and thoroughly aj^t, but slow of conception
and execution, he studied the papers as private Referendarhis,
and when we came together, he Avould state the case, and left
me to work it out, in which I shewed so much readiness, that
he felt a father's purest joy, and once could not refrain from
declaring, " that, if I were not of his own blood, he should
envy me."

To lighten oiir Avork we had engaged a scribe whose cha-
racter and individuality, well worked out, would have helped
to adorn a romance. After his school-years, which had been
profitably spent, and in which he had become fully master of
Latin, and acquired some other useful branches of knowledge,
a dissipated academic life had brought trouble on the remain-
der of his days. He dragged on a wretched existence for a
time in sickness and in poverty, tiU at last he contrived to
improve his circumstances by the aid of a fine hand-writing
and a readiness at accounts. Employed by some advocates,
he gradually acquired an accurate knowledge of the formali-
ties of legal business, and by his faithfulness and punctuality
made every one he served his patron. He had been fre-
quently employed by our family, and was always at hand in
matters of law and account.

He also was an useful assistant in our continually increas-
ing business, which consisted not only of law matters, but
also of various sorts of commissions, orders and transit agen-
cies. In the council-house he knew all the passages and
M'indings; in his way, he was in tolerable favor at both bur-
gomasters' audiences ; and since, from his first entrance into
office, and even during the times of his equivocal behavior, he
had been well acquainted with many of the new senators,
some of whom had quickly risen to the dignity of Schöß'etu he
had acquired a certain confidence, which might bo called a
■sort of influence. All this he knew how to turn to the

ÖU TKtJTH AND POETKY ; FROM MY OWX XIFE.

advantage of liis patrons, and since the state of liis health
forced him to limit his application to writing, he was always
fomid ready to execute every commission or order with care.

His presence was not disagreeable ; he was slender in per-
son and of regular features; his manner was unobtrusive,
though a certain expression betrayed his conviction that he
knew all what was necessary to be done : moreover, he was
cheerfid and dexterous in clearing away difficiüties. He
must have been full forty, and (to say the same thing over
again), I regret that I have never introduced him as the main-
spring in the machinery of some novel.

Ploping that my more serious readers are now somewhat
satisfied by what I have just related, I will ventm-e to turn
again to that bright point of tirie, when love and friendship
shone in their fairest light.

It was in the nature of such social circles that all birth-
days should be carefully celebrated, with eveiy variety of
rejoicing; it was in honor of the birth-day of the pastor
Ewald, that the following song was wi-itten : —

When met in glad communion.

When warm'd by love and wine,
To sinof this son^ in vmion.

Our voices we'll combine.
Through God, who first imited,

Together we remain :
ITie flame which once He lighted.

He now revives again.

Since this song has been preserved imtil this day, and
there is scarcely a merry party at which it is not joyfully
rexäved, we commend it also to all that shall come after us,
and to all who sing it or recite it we wish the same delight
and inward satisfixction which we then had, when M-e had no
thought of any wider world, but felt om'selves a world to
ourselves in that narrow circle.

It will, of course, be expected that Lilli's birth-day, which,
on the 23rd June, 1775, returned for the seventeenth time,
was to be celebrated Avith peculiar honours. She had pro-
mised to come to Ofienbach at noon ; and I must observe that
cm" friends, with a happy unanimity, had laid aside aU
customary compliments at this festival, and had prepared

PLOT OF "she co:mes not." 87

for her reception and entertainment nothing but such heartfelt
tokens, as were worthy of her.

Busied with such pleasant duties, I saw the sun go do-«-n,
announcing a bright day to follow, and promising its glad
beaming presence at oiu' feast, when Lilli's brother. George,
who knew not how to dissemble, came somewhat rvidely into
the chamber, and, without sparing our feehngs, gave us to
rmderstand that to-morrow's intended festival was put off;
he himself coidd not tell how. or why. but his sister had bid
him say that it would be wholly impossible for her to come
to Offenbach at noon that day, and take part in the intended
festival; she had no hope of arriving before evening. She
knew and felt most sensibly how vexatious and disagreeable
it must be to me and all her fi-iends, but she begged me very
earnestly to invent some expedient which might soften and
perhaps do away the impleasant effects of this news, which
she left it to me to announce. If I could, she would give me
her warmest thanks.

I was silent for a moment, but I quickly recovered myself,
and, as if by heavenly inspiration, saw what was to be done.
"Make haste, George!"' I cried; "tell her to make herself
easy, and do her best to come towards evening; I promise
that this very disappointment shall be turned into a cause of
rejoicing!" The boy was curious, and wanted to know how?
I refused to gratify his curiosity-, notwithstanding that he
called to his aid all the arts and all the influence which a
brother of our beloved can presume to exercise.

No sooner had he gone, than I walked up and down in my
chamber ■«•ith a singidar self-satisfaction; and, with the glad,
fi-ee feeling that here was a brilliant opportimity of proving
myself her devoted servant, I stitched together several sheets
of i^aper with beautiful silk, as suited alone such an occasional
poem, and hastened to write down the title :

" She Comes Not!

"A Momniful Family Piece, which, by the sore visitation of
Divine Providence, Avill be represented in the most natm-al
manner on the 23rd of June, 1775, at Offenbach-on-the-
Maine. The action lasts from morning imtil evening."

I have not by me either the original or a co^iy of this jeti

88 TPvUTH A>'^D poetry; FltOir MY OWN LIFE.

<Vesp7'it; I have often inquired after one, but have never
been able to got a trace of it ; I must therefore compose it
-anew, a thiny^ which, in the general way, is not difficult.

The scene is at D'Orville's house and garden in Offenbach;
the action opens with the domestics, of whom each one plays
his special part, and evident preparations for a festival are
being made. The chikken, drawn to the life, run in and out
among them ; the master appears and the mistress, actively
discharging her appropriate functions; then, in the midst of
the hurry and bustle of active preparation comes in neigh-
bom* Hans Andre, the indefatigable composer ; he seats him-
self at the piano, and calls them all together to hear him try
his new song, which he has just finished for the festival. He
gathers romid him the whole house, but all soon disperse
again to attend to pressing duties; one is called away by
another, this person wants the help of that; at last, the
arrival of the gardener draws attention to the preparations in
the grounds and on the water ; M-i-eaths, banners with orna-
mental inscriptions, in short, nothing is forgotten.

^Miile they are all assembled around the most attractive
objects, in steps a messenger, who, as a sort of humorous go-
between, was also entitled to play his part, and who although
he has had plenty of drink-money, could still pretty shrewdly
guess what was the state of the case. He sets a high value on
his packet, demands a glass of wine and a wheaten roU, and
after some roguish hesitation hands over his despatches. The
master of the house lets his arms dro^), the papers faU to the
floor, he calls out: "Let me go to the table I let me go to the
bureau that I may brush."

The spirited intercourse of vivacious persons is chiefly
distinguished by a certain symbolical style of speech and
-gestiu-e. A sort of conventional idiom arises, which, while it
makes the initiated very hapjjy, is unobserved by the stranger,
or, if observed, is disagreeable.

Among Lilli"s most pleasing particularities was the one
which is here expressed by the word brushing, and which
manifested itself whenever anything disagreeable was said or
told, especially when she sat at table, or was near any flat
surface.

It had its origin in a most fascinating but odd expedient,
-which she once had recourse to when a stranger, sitting near

PLOT OF " SHE COMES XOT."' 89

her at table, uttered something unseemly. "Without altering
her mild countenance, she brushed with her right hand, most
prettily, across the table-cloth, and deliberately pushed off
on to the floor everything she reached with this gentle motion.
I know not what did not fall: — knives, forks, bread, salt-
cellar, and also something belonging to her neighbour; every
one was startled; the servants ran up, and no one knew what
it aU meant, except the observing ones, who were delighted
that she had rebuked and checked an impropriety in so pretty
a manner.

Here now was a symbol found to express the repulsion of
anything disagreeable, which still is frequently made use of
in clever, hearty, estimable, well-meaning, and not thoroughly
polished society. "We all adopted the motion of the right
hand as a sign of reprobation; the actual brushing away of
objects was a thing which afterwards she herself indulged in
only moderately and with good taste.

"When, therefore, the poet gives to the master of the house,
as a piece of dumb shew, this desire for brushing, (a habit
which had become with us a second natiu-e,) the meaning and
effect of the action and its tendency, are at once apparent ;
for while he threatens to sweep everything from aU tlat sur-
faces, ever^'body tries to hinder him, and to pacify him, till
finally he throws himself exhausted on a seat.

" What has happened r " all exclaim. "Is she sick? Is
any one dead?" "Read! read I" cries D'Orville, "there it
lies on the gi-ound."' The despatch is picked up; they read
it, and exclaim: She comes not/

The gi-eat terror had prepared them for a greater; — but
she was well — nothing had happened to her ! no one of the
family was hurt ; hope pointed still to the evening.

Andre, who in the meanwhile had kept on with his music,
came rmrning up at last, consoling and seeking consolation.
Pastor Ewald and his wife likewise came in quite character-
istically, disappointed and yet reasonable, sorry for the dis-
appointment and yet quietly accepting all for the best. Every-
thing now is at sixes and sevens, until the cahn and exemplaiy
uncle Bernard finally approaches, expecting a good breakfast
and a comfortable dinner ; and he is the only one who sees the
matter from the right point of view. He, by reasonable
speeches, sets all to rights, just as in the Greek tragedy a god

90 TRUTH Axi> poetky; rRo:M MY o^^"s life.

manages with a few words to clear up the perplexities of the
greatest heroes.

Dashed off '• currente calamo," it M-as yet late at night
before I had finished it and given it to a messenger with
instructions to deliver it the next moraing in Offenba-ch, pre-
cisely at ten o'clock.

Next day when I awoke, it was one of the brightest
mornings possible, and, I set off just in time to aiTive at
Offenbach, as I purposed, precisely at noon.

I was received with the strangest chai-ivai'i of salutations;
the interrupted feast was scarcely mentioned; they scolded
and rated me, because I had taken them off so well. The
domestics were contented with being introduced on the same
stage with their superiors; only the children, those most
decided and indomitable realists, obstinately insisted that
they had not talked so and so, that ever\i:hing in fact went
quite differently from the way in which it there stood written.
I appeased them by some foretastes of the supper-table, and
they loved me as much as ever. A cheerful dinner-j^artA',
with some though not all of our intended festivities, put us in
the mood of receiving Lilli with less splendor, but perhaps the
more affectionately. She came, and was welcomed by cheer-
ful, nay, merr\- faces, surprised to find that her sta^sTug away
had not marred all our cheerfulness. They told her every-
thing, they laid the whole thing before her, and she, in her
dear sweet way, thanked me as only she coiüd thank.

It requii-ed no remarkable acuteness to perceive, that her
absence from the festival in her honor was not accidental, but
had been caused by gossiping about the intimacy between us.
However, this had not the slightest influence either on our
sentiments or our behavior.

At this season of the year there never failed to be a varied
throng of visitors fi'om the city. Frequently I did not join
the company until late in the evening, when I found her
apparently sjTnpathizing; and since I commonly appeared
only for a few hours, I was glad of an oppoilunity to be
useful to her in any way, by attending to or imdertaking
some commission, whether trifling or not, in her behalf.
And indeed this ser'S'ice is the most delightful which a man
can enter upon, as the old romances of chivalry contrive how
to intimate in their obscure, but powerful manner. That she

liS'TIMACY WITH LILLI. 91

ruled over me. was not to be concealed, and this pride she
might well allow herself; for in this contest the victor and
the vanquished both triumph, and enjoy an equal glory.

This my rej^eated, though often brief cooperation, was
always so much the more effective. John Ancke had always
store of music ; I contributed new pieces either by others or
myself; so that poetical and musical blossoms showered down
upon us. It was altogether a brilliant time; a certain excite-
ment reigned in the companj', and there were no insipid
moments. Without further question it seemed to be com-
mimicated to all the rest. For where inclination and passion
come out in their o^vn bold nature, they encoui-age timid
souls, who cannot comprehend why they shoidd suppress their
equallj' vahd rights. Hence relations, wlüch hitherto were
more or less concealed, were now seen to intertwine them-
selves without reserve; wliile others, which did not confess
themselves so openly, still glided on agreeably in the shade.

If, because of my multifarious avocations, I could not pass
whole days out of doors with her, yet the clear evenings gave
us opportunity for prolonged meetings in the open aii*.
Loving souls will be pleased to read the foUovring event.

Ours was a condition of which it stands MTitten : " I sleep,
but my heart wakes; " the bright and the dark houi-s were
alike; the light of the day could not outshine the light of
love, and tbe night was made as the brightest day by the
radiance of passion.

One clear starlight evening we had been walking about in
the open covmtiy till it was quite late; and after I had seen
her and her friends home to their several doors, and finally
had taken leave of her, I felt so little inclined to sleep that I
did not hesitate to set off on another ramble. I took the
highroad to Frankfort, giving myself up to my thoughts and
hopes ; here I seated myself on a bench, in the pm-est still-
ness of night, under the gleaming starry heavens, that I might
belong only to myself and her.

My attention was attracted by a somid quite near me,
which I could not explain; it was not a rattling, nor a
rustling noise, and on closer observation I discovered that it
was under the gi-ound. and caused by the Avorking of some
little animal. It might be a hedge-hog. or a weasel, or what-
ever creatm-e labors in that way at such hom-s.

92 TRUTH AND POETKY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE.

Having set off again towards the city and got near to tlie
Röderberg. I recognised, by their chalk-^A■hite gleam, the
steps which lead up to the vineyards. I ascended them, sat
down, and fell asleep.

When I awoke, the twilight had already dawned, and I
found myself opposite the high wall, which in earlier times
had been erected to defend the heights on this side. Saxen-
hausen lay before me, light mists marked out the com'se of
the river; it was cool, and to me most welcome.

There I waited till the sun, rising gradually behind me,
lighted np the opposite landscape. It was the spot where I
was again to see my beloved, and I retm-ned slowly back to
the paradise which surroimded her yet sleeping.

On accoimt of my increasing ciix-le of business, which,
from love to her, I was anxious to extend and to establish,
my Aasits to Offenbach became more rare, and hence arose a
somewhat painful predicament; so that it might well be
remarked, that, for the sake of the future, one postpones and
loses the present.

As my prospects were now gradually improving, I took
them to be more promising than they really were, and I
thought the more about coming to a speedy explanation, since
so public an intimacy could not go on much longer without
misconstruction. And, as is usual in such cases, we did not
expressly say it to one another; but the feeling of being
mutually pleased in every way, the full conviction that a
■separation was impossible, the confidence reposed in one
another. — all this produced such a seriousness, that I, who
had firmly resolved never again to get involved in any
troublesome connexion of the kind, and who foimd myself,
nevertheless, entangled in this, without the certainty of a
favorable result, was actually beset with a heaviness of mind,
to get rid of which I jilunged more and more in indifferent
worldly affairs, from which apart fi-om my beloved I had no
care to derive either profit or pleasure.

In this strange situation, the like of which many, no doubt,
have v\-ith pain experienced, there came to om* aid a female
friend of the family, who saw through characters and situa-
tions ver}- clearly. She was called Mademoiselle Delf ; she
presided with her elder sister over a little business in Heidel-
berg, and on several occasions had received many favors from

A BETKOTHAL. 93

the gi-eater Frankfort commission-house. She had kno^^Ti
and loved Lilli from her youth ; she was quite a peculiar
person, of an earnest, masculine look, and -with an even, firm
hasty step. She had had pecidiar reason to adapt herself to
the world, and hence she understood it, in a certain sense at
least. She could not be called intriguing ; she was accus-
tomed to consider distant contingencies, and to carry out her
plans in silence : but then she had the gift of seeing an oppor-
tunity, and if she found people wavering betwixt doubt and
resolution, at the moment when everything depended ujion
decision, she skilfully contrived to infuse into their minds
such a force of character, that she seldom failed to accomplish
her purpose. Properly speaking she had no selfish ends: to
have done anything, to have completed anything, especially
to have brought about a marriage, was reward enough for
her. She had long since seen thi-ough our position, and. in
repeated visits, had carefully observed the state of afiairs. so
that she had finally convinced herself that the attachment
must be favored ; that our plans, honestly but not verv skil-
fully taken in hand and prosecuted, must be promoted, and
that this little romance be brought to a close as speedily as
possible.

For many years she had enjoyed the confidence of Lilli's
mother. Introduced by me to my parents, she had managed
to make herself agi'eeable to them; for her rough sort of
manner is seldom ofi'ensive in an imperial city, and backed bv
cleverness and tact, is even welcome. She knew veiy well
our Avishes and oiu- hopes ; her love of meddling made her
see in all this a call upon her good offices ; in short she had
a conversation with our parents. How she commenced it,
how she put aside the difficulties which must have stood in
her way. I know not ; but she came to us one evening and
brought the consent. '"Take each other by the hand! " cried
she, in her pathetic yet commanding manner. I stood
opposite to Lilli and offered her my hand; she, not indeed
hesitatingly, but still slowly, placed hers in it. After a long
and deep breath we fell with lively emotion into each other's
arms.

It was a strange degi-ee of the overruling Providei-.ce. that
in the com-se of my singular history, I should also have
experienced the feeliiags of one who is betrothed.

94 TKUTH AND POETKY; FRO.M MY O^VS LIFE.

I may venture to assert, that for a truly moral man it is the
pleasantest of all recollections. It is delightful to recall those
feelings, which are with difficulty expressed and are hardly
explained. For him the state of things is aU at once changed ;
the sharpest oppositions are removed, the most inveterate dif-
ferences are adjusted; prompting natm'e, ever warning reason,
the tyrannizing impulses, and the sober law, which before kept
up a perpetual stiife within us, all are now reconciled in
friendly \mity, and at the festival, so universally celebrated
with solemn rites, that which was forbidden is commanded, and
that which was penal is raised to an in'sdolable dutv.

The reader will leam with moral approval that from this
time forward a certain change took place in me. If my
beloved had hitherto been looked upon as beautifid, gi-aceful,
and attractive, now she appeared to me a being of superior
worth and excellence. She was as it were a double person :
her gi'ace and loveliness belonged to me, — that I felt as for-
merly; but the dignity of her character, her self-reKanee, her
confidence in all persons remained her own. I beheld it, I
looked thi-ough it, I was delighted Avith it as with a capital
of which I shoidd enjoy the interest as long as I lived.

There is depth and significance in the old remai'k : on the
summit of fortune one abides not long. The consent of the
parties on both sides, so gained in such a peciüiar manner by
Demoiselle Delf, Avas now ratified silently and without further
formality. But as soon as we believe the matter to be aU
settled — as soon as the ideal, as we may well call it, of a
betrothal is over, and it begins to pass into the actual and to
enter soberly into facts, then too often comes a crisis. The
outward world is utterly luimerciful, and it has reason, for it
must maintain its authority at aU costs; the confidence of
passion is veiy great, and we see it too often wrecked upon
the rocks of opposing realities. A young married couple who
enter upon life, vmprovided with sufficient means, can pro-
mise themselves no honey-moon, especially in these latter
times; the world immediately presses upon them with iu com-
patible demands, Avhich, if not satisfied, make the young
couple appear ridiculous.

Of the insufficiency of the means which for the attainment
of my end, I had anxiously scraped together, I could not
before be aware, because they had held out up to a certain

THE REALITIES OF LIFE. 95

point; but now the end was drawing nearer, I saw that
matters were not quite what they ought to be.

The fallacy, which passion finds so convenient, was now
exposed in all its inconsistency. My hovise, my domestic
circumstances, had to be considered in all their details, with
some soberness. The consciousness, that his house would one
day contain a daughter-in-law, lay indeed at the bottom of my
father's design; but then what sort of a lady did he con-
template ?

At the end of om- third part, the reader made the ac-
quaintance of the gentle, dear, intelligent, beautifid, and
talented maiden, so always like herself, so affectionate, and
yet so free from passion ; she was a fitting key-stone to the
arch already built and curved. But here, upon calm imbiassed
consideration, it could not be denied that, in order to establish
the newly acquired treasm-e in such a function, a new arch
woidd have to be built!

However this had not yet become clear to me, and still less
was it so to her mind. But now when I tried to fancy myself
bringing her to my home, she did not seem somehow to suit
it exactly. It appeared to me something like what I had
myself experienced, when I first joined her social circle: in
order to give no offence to the fashionable people I met there,
I foimd it necessary to make a great change in my style of
dress. But this could not be so easily done with the domestic
arrangement of a stately burgher's house, which, rebuilt in
the olden style, had with its antique ornaments, given an old-
fa.shioned character to the habits of its inmates.

Moreover, even after om- parents' consent had been gained,
it - had not been possible to estabhsh friendly relations or
intercourse between our respective families. Different reli-
gious opinions produced different manners ; and if the amiable
girl had wished to continue in any way her former mode of
life, it wotdd have found neither opporttmity nor place in our
moderate-sized house.

If I had never thought of all this until now, it was because
I had been quieted by the opening of fine prospects from ■^^-ith-
out. and the hope of getting some valuable appointment. An
active spirit gets a footing eveiywhere: capacities, talents
create confidence ; every one thinks that a change of manage-
ment is all that is needed. The earnestness of youth finds

9G TRUTH AND POETRY; FROJI MY OWN LIFE.

favoixr, geiiius is trusted for evcrj^thing, though its power is
only of a certain kind.

The intellectual and literary domain of Germany was at
that time regarded as but newly broken ground. Among the
business-people there were prudent men, who desired skilful
cultivators and prudent managers for the fields about to be
turned up. Even the respectable and well established Free-
Älason's lodge, with the most distinguished members of which
I had become acquainted tlu'ough my intimacy with Lilli, con-
trived in a suitable manner to get me introduced to them;
but I, from a feeling of independence, which afterwards
appeared to me madness, decHned all closer connection with
them, not percei^dng that these men, though already bound
together in a higher sense, Avoidd yet do much to further my
own ends, so nearly related to theirs.

I retm-n to more personal matters.

In such cities as Franlcfort, men often hold several situa-
tions together, such as residcntships, and agencies, the number
of which may by diligence be indefinitely increased. Something
of this sort now occurred to me, and at first sight it seemed
both advantageous and honorable. It was assumed that I
should suit the place; and it would, under the conditions,
certainly have succeeded, if it could have commanded the
co-operation of the Chancery triad already described. We
thus suppress ouv doubts ; we dwell only on what is favorable ;
by powerful activity we overcome all wavering ; whence there
results a something untrue in our position, without the force
of passion being in the least subdued.

In times of peace there is no more interesting reading for
the multitude than the public papers, which furnish early
infomiation of the latest doings in the world. The quiet opu-
lent citizen exercises thus in an innocent way a party spirit,
which in our finite nature we neither can nor should get rid of.
Every comfortable person thus gets up a factitious interest,
like that which is often felt in a bet, experiences an unreal
gain or loss, and as in the theatre, feels a very lively, though
imaginarj' sympathy in the good or evü fortune of others.
This sympathy seems often arbitrary, but it rests on moral
grounds. For now we give to praiseworthy designs the ap-
jilause they deserve ; and now again, carried away by brilliant

AMEEICAX KEVOLt'TIOX. 97

successes, we turn to those whose plans we should otherwise
have blamed. For all this there was abundant material in
those times.

Frederic the Second, resting on his victories, seemed to
hold in his hand the fate of Europe and the world ; Catherine,
a great woman, who had proved herself every way worthv of
a tlirone, afforded ample sphere of action to able and highly
gifted men, in extending the dominion of their Empress ; and
as this was done at the expense of the Turks, Avhom we are in
the habit of richly repaying for the contempt with which they
look down upon us, it seemed as if it was no sacrifice of human
life, when these infidels Avcre slain by thousands. The burn-
ing of the fleet in the harbor of Tschesme, caused a universal
jubilee throughout the ci'S'ilized world, and every one shared
the exultation of a victory, when, in order to preserve a faith-
ful pictm-e of that great event, a sliip of war was actually
bloA\-n up on the roads of Livorno, before the studio of an
artist. Not long after this, a young northern king, to esta-
blish his own authority, seized the reins of government, out of
the hands of an oligarchy. The aristocrats Avhoni he overthrew
were not lamented, for aristocracy finds no favor with the
public, since it is in its nature to work in silence, and it is the
more secure the less talk it creates about itself; and in thi.s
case the people thought all the better of the young king, since
in order to balance the enmity of the higher ranks, he was
obliged to favor the lower, and to conciliate their good
will.

The lively interest of the world was still more excit'ed
when a whole people prepared to effect their independence.
Already had it witnessed a v,-elcome spectacle of the same
effort on a small scale: Corsica had long been the point to
to which all eyes were directed; Paoli, when despairing of
ever being able to carr^- ovit his patriotic designs, he passed
through Germany to England, attracted and won all hearts;
he was a fine man, slender, fair, full of gi-ace and friendli-
ness. I saw him in the house of Bethmann, where he stopped
a short time, and received with cheerful cordiality the curious
visitors who thronged to see him. But now similar events
were to be repeated in a remote quarter of the globe; we
wished the Americans all success, and the names of Franklin
and Washington begaa to shine and sparkle in the firmament
Vol. II. H

98 TKL'XH Axc poetky; from: my own life.

of politics and war. INIucli had been aceomplislied to improve
the condition of humanity, and now, when in France, a new
and benevolent sovereign evinced the best intentions of devot-
ing himself to the removal of so many abiises and to the
noblest ends, — of introducing a regular and efficient system of
political economy, — of dispensing with all arbitrary power and
of ruling alone by law and justice ; the brightest hopes spread
over the world, and confident youth promised itself and to all
mankind a bright and noble future.

In all these events, however, I only took part so far as they
interested societA' in general; I myself and my immediate
cii'cle did not meddle with the news of the day; our affair was
to study men; men in general we allowed to have their way.

The quiet position of the Gennan Fatherland, to which also
my native city had now confomied for upwards of a himdred
years, had been fully preserved in spite of many wars and con-
\idsions. A highly varied gradation of ranks, which, instead
of holding the several classes apart, seemed to bind them the
more closely together, had promoted the interest of aU, from
the highest to the lowest — from the Emperor to the Jew. If
the sovereign princes stood in a subordinate relation to the
Emperor, still their electoral rights and immimities thereby
acquired and maintained, were a full compensation. ^Nlore-
over, the highest nobility belonged exclusively to the Agnates
of the royal houses, so that in the enjoyment of thefr distin-
guished privileges, they could look upon themselves as equal
with the highest and even supeiior to them in some sense,
since, as spiritual electors, they might take precedence of all
others, and, as branches of the sacred hierarchy, hold an
honorable and imcontested rank.

If now we think of the exti'aordinary privileges which these
ancient houses enjoyed, not only in their old patrimonial
estates, but also in the ecclesiastical endowments, the knightly
orders, the official administration of the Empire, and the old
brotherhoods and alliances for mutual defence and protection,
we can vainly conceive that this great body of influencial men
feeling themselves at once subordinated to and co-ordinate
with the highest, and occupying their days Avith a regular round
of employments, might M^ell be contented with their situatio7i,
and M'ould withoiit further anxiet}-seek only to secure and trans-
mit to their successors the same comforts and prerogatives.

STATE OF GEKMA>"Y. 99

Nor was this class deficient in intellectual cultm-e. Already for
more than a centiQ'y the decided proofs of high training in
militaiy and political science had been discernible in our noble
soldiers and diplomatists. But at the same time there were
many minds who, thi-ough literary and philosophical studies,
had arrived at views not over favorable to the existing state
of things.

In Germany scarcely any one had as yet learned to look
with envy on that monstrous pri-sdleged class, or to grudge its
fortunate advantages. The middle class had devoted them-
selves undisturbed to commerce and the sciences, and by
these pursuits, as well as by the practice of the mechanic arts, so
closely related to them, had raised themselves to a position of
importance which fully balanced its political inferiority ; the
free or half-fi'ee cities favom'ed this activity, while individuals
felt a certain qidet satisfaction in it. The man who increased
his wealth, or enhanced his intellectual influence, especially in
matters of law or state, could always be sure of enjoying both
respect and authority. In the Supreme Conrts of the ejmpire,
and indeed in all others, a learned bench stood parallel Mith the
noble ; the uncontrolled oversight of the one managed to keep in
harmony with the deepest insight of the other; and experience
could never detect a trace of rivalry between them ; the noble
felt seciu'e in his exclusive and time-hallowed privileges, and
the biu'gher felt it beneath his dignity to strive for a semblance
of them by a httle prefix to his name.'^ The merchant, the
manufacturer, had enough to do to keep pace with those of
other nations in progress and improvement. Leaving out of
the accoimt the usual temporary fluctuations, we may certainly
say that it was on the whole a time of pure advance, such as
had not appeared before, and such as, on account of another
and greater progress both of mind and things, could not long
continue.

My position with regard to the higher classes at this time
M'as very favorable. In Werlho; to be sure, the disagree-
able circumstances which arise just at the boundary between
two distinct positions, were descanted upon with some impa-
tience ; but this was overlooked in consideration of the gene-

* The "von" which in Germany those who are ennobled prefix to
their surnames.

H 2

100 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY CWX LIFE.

rally passionate character of the book, since every one felt
that it had no reference to any immediate effect.

But Götz von Berlichmgcn had set me quite right with
the upper classes ; Avhatever improprieties might be charged
upon my earlier literary productions, in this Avork I had with
great learning and much felicity depicted the old German
constitution, with its inviolable emperor at the head, with its
many degrees of nobility, and a knight who, in a time of
general lawlessness, had determined as a private man to act
uprightly, if not lawfidly, and thus fell into a very sorry pre-
dicament. This complicated story, however, was not snatched
from the air, but founded on foct; it was cheerfully, lively,
and consequently here and there a little modern, but it was,
nevertheless, on the whole, in the same spirit as the brave and
capable man had with some degree of skill set it forth in his
ov\^l narrative.

The family still flourished; its relation to the Frankish
knighthood had remained in all its integritv, although that
relation, like many others at that time, might have grown
somewhat faint and nominal.

Now all at once the little stream of Jaxt. and the castle of
Jaxthausen, acquired a poetical importance ; they, as well as
the council-house at Ileilbronn, were visited by travellers.

It was known that I had the mind to ^^Tite of other points
of that historical period ; and many a family, which could
readily deduce its origin from that time, hoped to see its
ancestors brought to the light in the same Avay.

A strange satisfaction is generally felt, Avhen a writer feli-
citously recalls a nation's history to its recollection; men
rejoice in the \irtues of their ancestors, and smile at the fail-
ings, which they believe they themselves have long since got
rid of. Such a delineation never fails to meet with sympathy
and applause, and in this respect I enjoyed an envied influence.
Yet it may be worth while to rcmai-k, that among the
numerous advances, and in the multitixde of young persons
who attached themselves to me, there was found no noble-
man; on the other hand, many who had already arrived at
the age of thirty sought me and visited me, and of these the
willing and striving were pervaded by a joyful hope of
earnestly developing themselves in a national and even more
imiversally humane sense.

ULRICH YON IITJTTEIJ'. 101

At this time a general curiosity about the epoch bet^^■eea
the fifteenth aud sixteenth century had commenced, and was
very lively. The works of Ulkich von Hütten had falkn
into my hands, and I was not a little struck to see something
so similar to what had taken place in his time, again manifest-
ing itself in oux later days.

The following letter of Uh'ich von Hütten to BiUibald Pyrk-
heymer, may therefore suitably find place here : —

" What fortune gives us, it generally takes away again ; and
not only that — everything else which accrues to man from
without, is, we see, liable to accident and change. And yet,
notvv'ithstanding, I am now striving for honor, which I should
wish to obtain, if possible, Avithout cnvj, but still at any cost ;
for a fiery thirst for glory possesses me, so that I wish to be
ennobled as highly as possible. I should make but a poor
figure in ni)^ own eyes, dear Billibald, if, born in the rank, in
the family I am, and of such ancestors, I could be content to
hold myself to be noble, though I never emiobled myself by »ny
own exertions. So great a work have I in my mind! my
thoughts are higher ! it is not that I would see myself pro-
moted to a more distinguished and more brilliant rank ; but I
woiüd fain seek a fountain elsewhere, out of which I might
draw a pecuHar nobility of my owti, and not be counted
among the factitious nobility, contented with what I have
received from my ancestors. On the contrary, I would add
to those advantages something of my own, which may, from
me, pass over to my posterity.

" Therefore, in my studies and my efforts, I proceed in
opposition to the opmion of those who consider that what
actually exists is enough ; for to me nothing of that sort is
enough, according to what I have already confessed to you of
my ambition in this respect. And I here avow that I do not
envy those who, starting from the lowest stations, have
climbed higher than myself; for on this point I by no means
agiee svith those of my own rank, who are wont to sneer at
persons who, of a lower origin, have, by their own talents,
raised themselves to eminence. For those with perfect right
are to be preferred to us, who have seized for themselves and
taken possession of the material of glory, which we ourselves
neglected ; they may be the sons of fidlers or of tanners, but
they have contrived to attain their- ends, by struggling with

102 TKrxn and poetet; mo^r mt owx life.

greater difficulties than we ever had against us. The ignorant
man, who envies him who by his knowledge has distinguished
liimsclf, is not only to be called a fool, but is to be reckoned
among the miserable — indeed among the most miserable ; and
with this disease are om- nobles especially affected, that they
look with an evil eye upon such accomplishments. For what, in
God's name ! is it to envy one who possesses that which we have
despised? Why have we not applied ourselves to the law?
■why have we not om-selves this excellent learning, the best
arts? And now fidlers, shoemakers, and wheelAvi-ights, go
before us. "\Miy have we forsaken oiu- post, why left the
most Liberal studies to hii-ed sei-vants and (shamefully for us !)
to the veiy lowest of the people? !Most justly has that inhe-
ritance of nobility which we have thro^^m away been taken
possession of by every clever and diligent plebeian who makes
it profitable by its ovm industry. Wretched beings that we
are, who neglect that which suffices to raise the veiy humblest
above us; let us cease to envy, and strive also to obtain
what others, to our deep disgrace, have claimed for them-
selves.

*" Every longing for glory is honorable ; all sti'iving for the
exeellout is praiseworthy. To every rank may its own honor
remain, may its own ornaments be seciu'ed to it! Those
statues of my ancestors I do not despise any more than the
richly endowed pedigree ; but whatever their worth may be,
it is not ours, imless by our own merits Ave make it ours ; nor
can it endm-e. if the nobility do not adopt the habits which
become them. In vain will yonder fat and corpulent head of
a noble house point to the images of his ancestors, whilst he
himself, inactive, resembles a clod rather than those whose
vii'tucs throw a halo upon his name from bygone days.

" So nmch have I wished most fully and most frankly to
confide to you resjiecting my ambition and my nature."

Although, perhaps, not exactly in the same train of ideas,
yet the same excellent and strong sentiments had I to heai*
from my more distinguished friends and acquaintances, of
which the results appeared in an honest acti^-ity. It had
become a creed, that everv one must earn for himself a per-
sonal nobility, and if any rivalry appeared in those fine days,
it was from above do^ATiwards.

We others, on the contrary, had what we wished : the fi'ee

FKA>"KFOET AND ITS CO^^STITUTIO^'. 103

and approved exercise of the talents lent to us by nature, as
far as could consist "with all our civil relations.

For my native city had in this a very pecuKar position, and
one which has not been enough considered. AVhile of the
free imperial cities the northern could boast of an extended
commerce, but the southern, declining in commercial import-
ance, cultivated the arts and manufactures with more success ;
Frankfort on the IMain exhibited a somewhat mixed character,
combining the residts of trade, wealth, and capital, with the
passion for learning, and its collection of works of art.

The Lutheran Confession controlled its government ; the
ancient lordship of the Gan. now bearing the name of the house
of Limburg; the house of Frauenstein, originally only a club,
but during the troubles occasioned by the lower classes, faith-
ful to the side of intelligence; the jurist, and others well to
do and well disposed — none was excluded from the magis-
tracy; even those mechanics who had iipheld the cause of
order at a critical time, were eli";ible to the council, though
they were only stationary- in their place. The other constitu-
tional counterpoises, formal institutions, and whatever else
belongs to such a constitution, afforded employment to the
activity of many persons ; while trade and manufacture, in so
favorable a situation, found no obstacle to thefr gro^\-th and
prosperity.

The higher nobility kept to itself, imenvied and almost un-
noticed ; a second class px'essiug close upon it Avas forced to be
more active; and resting upon old wealthy family founda-
tions, sought to distinguish itself by political and legal
learning.

The members of the so-caUed Reformed persu.asion (Cal-
vinists) composed, like the refugees in other places, a distin-
gidshed class, and Avhen they rode out in fine equipages on
Sundays to theii* service in Bockenheim, seemed almost to
celebrate a sort of triumph over the citizen's party, who had
the privilege of going to chui'ch on foot in good Aveather and
in bad.

The Roman Catholics were scarcely noticed; but they also
were aware of the advantages which the other two confessions
had appropriated to themselves.

EIGHTEENTH BOOK.

Rett:cxing to literary matters, I must bring forward a cir-
cumstance which had gi-eat influence on the German |)oetry
of this period, and which is especially worthy of remark, be-
cause this veiy influence has lasted through the history of our
poetic art to the present day, and wiU not be lost even in the
future.

From the earlier times, the Germans were accustomed to
rhjTiie ; it had this advantage in its favour, that one could
proceed in a very naive manner, scarcely doing more tlian
comit the syllables. If v.ith the progress of imjn'ovomeut
attention began more or less instinctively to be paid also to
the sense and signification of the syllables, this ^^■as highly
piaiseworthy, and a merit which many poets contrived to
make their own. The rhpne was made to mark the close of
the poetical proposition : the smaller divisions were indicated
by shorter lines, and a naturally refined ear began to make
provision for variety and grace. But now all at once rhyme
was rejected before it was considered that the value of the
syllables had net as yet been decided, indeed that it was a
difficult thing to decide. Klopstock took the lead. How
earnestly he toiled and Avhat he has accomplished is well
known. Every one felt the uncertainty of the matter, many
did not like to nui a risk, and stimulated by this natural ten-
dency, they snatched at a poetic prose. Gessner's extremely
charming Idylls opened an endless path. Klopstock wrote
the dialogue of Hennanns Schlucht {Herma7in s Fight) in
prose, as well as Der Tod Adams {The Death of Adam).
Through the domestic tragedies as Avell as the more classic
dramas, a style more lofty and more impassioned gained pos-
ses.sion of the theatre ; while, on the other hand, the Iambic
verse of five feet, which the example of the English had
spread among us, was reducing poesy to prose. But in gene-
ral the demand for rhythm and for rhyme coidd not be
silenced. Ramler," though proceeding on vague principles
(as he v.-as always severe with respect to his own productions),
could not help exercising the same severity upon those of

HA>'S SACHS. 105

others. He transformed prose into verse, altered and im- ■
proved the works of others, by which means he earned little
thanks and only confused the matter still more. Those suc-
ceeded best who stiU conformed to the old custom of rhyme
with a certain observance of syUabic quantity, and who,
guided by a natural taste, observed laws though imexprcssed
and undeteimined ; as, for example, Wieland, who, although
inimitable, for a long time served as a model to more moderate
talents.

But StiU in any case the practice remained uncertain, and
there was no one, even among the best, who might not for the
moment have gone astray. Hence the misfortune, that this
epoch of our poetic history, so peculiarly rich in genius, pro-
duced little which, in its kind, could be pronomiced correct ;
for here also the time was stirring, advancing, active, and
calling for improvement, but not reflective and satisfying its
own requirements.

In order, however, to find a finn soil on which poetic
genius might find a footing, — to discover an element in which
they could breathe fi-cely, tliey had gone back some centmies,
where earnest talents were brilliantly prominent amid a
chaotic state of things, and thus they made fiiends ^vith the
poetic art of those times. The Minnesingers lay too far froux
us ; it would have been necessary first to study the language,
and that was not oui* object, we wanted to live and not to
learn.

Hans Sachs, the really masterly poet, was one whom we
could more readily sympathise with. A man of true talent,
not indeed like the Minnesinging knights and couitiers, but a
plain citizen, such as we also boasted ourselves to be. A
didactic realism suited us, and on many occasions we made
use of the easy rhythm, of the readily occm-riug rhyme. His
manner seemed so suitable to mere poems of the day, and to
such occasional pieces as we were called upon to write at
ever}' houi*.

If important works, Avhlch required the attention and labor
of a year or a whole life, were built, more or less, iipou
such hazardous groiuids on trivial occasions, it may be ima-
gined how wantonly all other ephemeral productions took
theii- rise and shape ; for example, the poetical epistles, pai'a-

106 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MT OWN LIFE.

bles, and invectives of all forms, with Avhich we went on
making war Mdtliin ourselves, and seeks squabbling abroad.

Of this ku\d, besides what has already been printed, some-
thing, though very little, survives ; it may be laid up some-
where. Brief allusions "will suffice to reveal to thinking
men their origin and purposes. Persons of more than ordi-
naiy penetration, to Avhose sight these may hereafter be
brought, will be ready to observe that an honest piu-pose lay
at the bottom of all such eccentricities. An upright will
revolts against presumption, nature against conventionalities,
talent against forms, genius with itself, energy against indeci-
sion, imdeveloped capacity against developed mediociity ; so
that the whole proceeding may be regarded as a skirmish
which follows a declaration of war, and gives promise of a
violent contest. For, strictly considered, the contest is not
yet fought out, in these fifty years ; it is still going on, only in
a higher region.

I had, in imitation of an old German puppet play, invented
a wild extravaganza, which was to bear the title of Hanswurst' s
Hochzeit {Jack Pudding's Wedding)."^' The scheme was as
follows: — HansA'vn.irst, a rich young farmer and an orphan,
has just come of age, and Avishes to marry a rich maiden,
named Ursel Blandine. His guardian, Kilian Brustfiech (^Lea-
ther aproii), and her mother Ursel, are highly pleased with
the purpoi^e. Their long-cherished plans, theii- dearest Avishes,
are at last fulfilled and gratified. There is not the slightest
obstacle, and properly the whole interest turns only upon this,
that the young people's ardour for their imion is delayed by
the necessary arrangements and formalities of the occasion.
As prologue, enters the inviter to the wedding festivities, who
proclaims the banns after the traditional fashion, and ends with
the rhymes:

Tlie wedding feast is at the house
Of mine host of the Golden Louse.

To obviate the charge of violating the unity of place, the
aforesaid tavern, with its glittering insignia, was placed in the
backgromid of the theatre ; but so that all its four sides could

* Hanswurst is the old German buffoon, whose name answers to the
English " Jack Pudding;."— Tr.

THE "HAXSWURSt's HOCHZEIT. 107

be presented to view, by being turned upon a peg ; and as it
was moved round, the front scenes of the stage had to imdorgo
corresponding changes.

In the first act the front of the house facing the street was
turned to the audience, with its golden sign magnified as it
were by the solar microscope ; in the second act, the side to-
wards the garden. The third was towards a little wood ; the
fourth towards a neighboring lake; which gave rise to a pre-
diction that in aftertimes the decorator would have little diffi-
culty in canying a wave over the whole stage up to the
prompter's box.

But all this does not as yet reveal the peculiar interest of
the piece. The principal joke which was carried out, even to
an absui-d length, arose from the fact that the whole dramatis
personcB consisted of mere traditional German nick-uames,
which at once brought out the characters of the indi^•iduals,
and determined theii* relations to one another.

As we would fain hope that the present book Avill be read
aloud in good society, and even in decent family cii'cles, we
cannot A^enture, after the custom of every play-bill, to name
our persons here in order, nor to cite the passages in which
they most clearly and prominently showed themselves in their
ti'ue colours ; although, in the simplest way possible, lively,
roguish, broad allusions, and witty jokes, could not but arise.
We add one leaf as a specimen, leaving oirr editors the liberty
of deciding iipon its admissibility.

Cousin Schuft [scamp), through his relationship} to the
family, was entitled to an invitation to the feast; no one had
anything to say against it ; for though he was o. thoroughly
good-for-notliing fellow, yet there he was, and since he was
there, they could not with propriety leave him out ; on such
a feast-day, too, they were not to remember that they had
occasionally been dissatisfied with him.

With Master Schurke (hiare), it was a still more serious
case ; he had, indeed, been useful to the family, when it was
to his own profit ; on the other hand, again, he had injured it,
perhaps, in this case, also with an eye to his own interests ;
perhaps, too, because he found an opportunity. Those who
were any ways prudent voted for his admission ; the few who
would have excluded him, were out-voted.

But there was a thii-d person, about whom it was still more

108 XF.UTH AJfD poetry; i'KOM MY OWX LIFE.

difficxilt to decide ; an orderly man in society, no less than
others, obliging, agreeable, useful in many ways; he had the
single failing, that he could not bear his name to be men-
tioned, and as soon as he heard it, was instantaneously trans-
ported into a heroic fury, like that which the Northmen call
Berserher-rage. attempted to kill all right and left, and in his
fi-enzv hurt others and received hurt hhuself; indeed the
second act of the piece was brought, through him, to a very
perplexed termination.

Here was an opportunity which I could not allow to pass,
for chastising the piratical publisher Macklot. He is intro-
duced going about hawking his ]\Iacklot wares, and when he
hears of the preparation for the wedding, he cannot resist the
impulse to go spuugiug for a dinner, and to stutf his ravening
maw at other people's expense. He announces himself;
Ivilian Brustflech inqim-es into his claims, but is obliged to
refuse him, since it was an understanding that all the guests
should be well known public characters, to which recommen-
dation the applicant can make no claiu. Macklot does his
best to show that he is as renoA^Tied as any of them. But
when Kdian Brustflech, as a strict master of ceremonies,
shows himself immoveable, the nameless person, who has re-
covered from his Berserker-rage at the end of the second act,
espouses the cause of his near relative, the book-pirate, so
ui'gently, that the latter is finally admitted among the guests.

About this time the Counts Stolbekg arrived at Frank-
fort ; they were on a jom'ney to Switzerland, and wished to
make us a "visit. The earliest productions of my dawning
talent, which appeared in the Göttingen Musenalmanach, had
led to my forming a friendly relation with them, and with all
those other yoiuig men whose characters and labors are now
well known. At that time rather strange ideas were enter-
tained of friendship and love. They applied themselves to
nothing more, properly speaking, than a certain vivacity of
youth, which led to a mutual association and to an interchange
of minds, fuU indeed of talent but nevertheless uncultivated.
Such a mutual relation, which looked indeed like confidence, was
mistaken for love, for genuine inclination ; I deceived myself
in this as well as others, and have, in more than one way,
suffered from it many years. There is still in existence a

THE STOLBEKGS. 109

lottei- of Burger's belonging to that time, from which it may
be seen that, among these companions, there was no question
about the moral a?sthetic. Every one felt himself excited, and
thoiight that he might act and poetize accordingly.

The brothers arrived, bringing Count Haug^-itz with them.
They were received by me with open heart, with kindly pro-
priety. They lodged at the hotel, but were generally Avith us
at dinner. The first joyous meeting proved highly gratifying;
but troublesome eccentricities soon manifested themselves.

A singular position arose for my mother. In her ready
frank way, she could carry herself back to the middle age at
once, and take the part of Aja M-ith some Lombard or Byzan-
tine princess. They called her nothing else but Tian Aja,
and she was pleased ■svith the joke ; entering the more hear-
tily into the fantasies of youth, as she believed she saw her
own portrait in the lady of Götz von Berlichingen.

But this could not last long. "We had dined together but
a few times, when once, after enjoying glass after glass, our
poetic hatred for tyrants showed itself, and we avowed a
thirst for the blood of such villains. My father smiled and
shook his head ; my mother had scarcely heard of a tyrant in
her life, however she recollected having seen the copper-plate
engraving of such a monster in Gottfried's Chronicles, viz.,
King Cambyses, whom he describes as having shot with an
aiTOw the little son of an enemy through the heart, and boast-
ing of liis deed to the father's flxce ; this still stood in her
memory. To give a cheerful turn to the conversation which
continually grew more violent, she betook herself to her
cellar, where her oldest wines lay carefully preserved in large
casks. There she had in store no less treasm-e than the vin-
tages of 1706, '19, '26, and '48, all under her own especial
watch and ward, which were seldom broached except on
solemn festive occasions.

As she set before us the rich-colored wine in the polished
decanter, she exclaimed : " Here is the true tyrant's blood !
Glut yourselves with this, but let all murderous thoughts go
out of my house!"

" Yes, tjTants' blood indeed!" I cried; " there is no greater
tyi-ant than the one whose heart's blood is here set before you.
Kegale yourselves with it : but use moderation ! for beware
lest he subdue you by his spirit and agreeable taste, llic vine

110 IRUXH AND poetry; mOil MY OAVN LIFE.

is the universal tj-rant who ought to be rooted up; let us
therefore choose and rcTerence as oui- patron Saint the holy
Lycurgus, the Thraeian; he set about the pious work in
earnest, and though at last bhnded and corrupted by the
infatuating demon Bacchus, he yet deserves to stand high in
the army of martyrs above.

" This vine-stock is the very vilest tjTant, at once an op-
pressor, a flatterer, and a hypocrite. The first draughts of
his blood ai'e sweetly relishing, but one drop incessantly entices
another after it ; they succeed each other like a necklace of
pearls, which one fears to pidl apart."

If any should suspect me here of substituting, as the best
histormns have done, a fictitious speech for the actual address,
I can only express my regret that no short-hand ^^Titer had
taken down this peroration at once and handed it do\vn to us.
The thoughts woidd be foimd the same, but the flow of the
language perhaps more graceful and attractive. Above all,
however, in the present sketch, as a whole, there is a want of
that diflaise eloquence and fulness of youth, which feels itself,
and knows not whither its strength and facidty wiU carry it.

In a city like Frankfort, one is placed in a strange position ;
strangers continually crossing each other, point to every region
of the globe, and awaken a passion for travelling. On many
an occasion before now I had shoAvn an inclination to be mov-
ing, and now at the very moment when the great point was
to make an experiment whether I coidd renovmce Lilli — when
a certain painful disquiet imfitted me for all regular business,
the proposition of the Stolbergs, that I should accompany them
to S\\'itzerland, was welcome. Stimulated, moreover, by the
exhortations of my father, who looked with pleasm-e on the
idea of my travelling in that direction, and who advised me
not to omit to pass over into Italy, if a suitable occasion
should offer itself, I at once decided to go, and soon had
everj'thing packed for the journey. With some intimation,
but without leave-taking, I separated myself from Lili; she
had so grown into my heart, that I did not believe it possible
to part myself from her.

In a few hours I foimd myself M-ith my meiTy fellow-tra-
vellers in Darmstadt. Even at court we shoiüd not always
act with perfect propriety; here Count Haugwitz took the
lead. He was the youngest of us all, well formed, of a delicate,

THE STOLBEKGS. Ill

but noWe appearance, with soft friendly features, of an equable
disposition, sympathizing enough, but with so much modera-
tion, that, contrasted with us, he appeai'ed quite impassible.
Consequently, he had to put up with all sorts of jibes and
nicknames from them. This was all yeiy well, so long as they
belieyed that they might act like chüdi'en of nature ; but as
soon as occasion called for propriety, and when one was again
obliged, not unwiUingly, to put on the reseiTe of a Count,
then he knew how to introduce and to smoothe oyer eyery-
thing, so that we always came off with tolerable credit, if not
with eclat.

I spent my time, meanwhile, '^-ith Merk, xAw in hLs Mephis-
tophelist manner looked upon my intended joiu-ney with an
eyii eye, and described my companions, who had also paid him
a yisit, a\ ith a discrimination that Hstened not to any sugs'es-
tions of mercy. In his way he knew me thoroughly; the
naiye and indomitable good nature of my character was pain-
ful to him ; the eyerlasting pm-pose to take things as they are,
the Hye and let live was his detestation. '• It is a foolish
trick," he said, " your going with these Burschen;" and then
he would describe them aptly, but not altogether justly.
Throughout there was a want of good feeling, and here I
could beHeye that I could see farther than he ctd, although I
chd not in fact do this, but only knew how to appreciate those
ideas of theii- character, which lay beyond the ciixle of his
yision.

•• You will not stay long -with them ! " was the close of all
his remarks. On this occasion I remember a remarkable
saj-ing of his, which he repeated to me at a later time, which
I had often repeated to myself, and frequently foimd confinned
in life. '• Thy stri\'ing," said he, " thy unswerving effort is
to give a poetic form to the real ; others seek to give realitj'
to the so-called poetic, to the imaginative, and of that nothing
will ever come but stupid stuff." "Whoever apprehends the
inunense difference between these two modes of action, who-
ever insists and acts upon tliis conviction, has reached the
solution of a thousand other things.

Unhappily, before our party left Darmstadt, an incident
happened which tended to verify beyond chspute the opinion
of Merk.

.\mongthe extrayaganzas which grew out of the notion that

112 thutii and poetky; from my own life.

we should try to transport oui'selves into a state of nature,
Avas that of bathing in public waters, in the open air; and
our friends, after violating every other law of propriety, could
not forego this additional unseemliness. Darmstadt, situated
on a sandy plain, without running water, had, it appeared, a
pond in the neighbourhood, of which I onlj^ heard on this
occasion. IMy friends, who were hot by nature, and moreover
kept continually heating themselves, sought refreshment in
this pond. The sight of naked youths in the clear sunshine,
miglit well seem something strange in this region ; at all
events scandal arose. Merk sharpened his conclusions, and I
do not deny that I was glad to hasten our departure.

On the way to JNIannheim, in spite of all good and noble
feelings which we entertained in common, a certain difference
in sentiment and conduct already exhibited itself. Leo])old
Stolberg told us with much of feeling and passion, that he
had been forced to renounce a sincere attachment to a beautiful
English lady, and on that account had undertaken so long a
jouiney. Wlien he received in return the sympathising con-
fession that we too Avere not strangers to such experiences,
then he gave vent M-ithout res])ect to the feelings of youth,
declaring that nothing in the A\'orld could be compared with
his passion, his sufferings, or with the beauty and amiability
of liis beloved. If by moderate observations we tried, as is
proper among good companions, to bring him duly to qualify
his assertion, it only made matters worse ; and Count Ilaugwitz,
as well as I, were inclined at last to let the matter drop. When
we had reached Mannheim, we occupied pleasant chambers
in a resjDcctable hotel, and after oiir first dinner there during
the dessert, at which the wine was not spared, Leopold chal-
lenged us to drink to the health of his fair one, wliich was
done noisily enough. After the glasses were drained, he cried
out : But now, out of goblets thus consecrated, no more drink-
ing must be permitted; a second health would be a ])rofana-
tion; therefore, let us annihilate these vessels! and with these
words he dashed the wine-glass against the wall behind him.
Tlie rest of us followed his example ; and I imagined at the
moment, that ^lerk pulled me by the collar.

But youth still retains this trait of childhood, that it harbors
no malice against good companions; that its unsophisticated
good natm-e may be brushed somewhat roughly indeed, to be
sm-e, but cannot be permanently injm'cd.

KLOPSTOCK. 113

Tlic glasses tlms proclaimed angelical had considcrablv
ßwclled Olli" reckoning, comforting om-selves, however, and
determined to be merry, we hastened for Carlsriihe, there to
enter a new circle, with all the confidence of youth and its
freedom from care. There we found Klopstock, who still
maintained, with dignity, his ancient authority over disciples
who held him in reyerence. I also gladly did homage to him,
so that when bidden to his court with the others, I probably
conducted myself tolerably well for a noyice. One felt, too,
in a certain manner called upon to be natural and sensible at
the same time.

The reigning Margraye, highly honored among the German
Soyereigns as one of their princely seniors, but more especi-
ally on account of the excellent aims of his goyernment, was
glad to conyerse about matters of political economy. The
Margi-ayine, active and well versed in the arts and various
useful branches of knowledge, was also pleased by some
graceful speeches to manifest a certain SATnpathy for us ; for
wliich we were duly grateful, though when at home we could
not refrain from venting some severe remarks upon her miser-
able paper-manuflictoiy, and the favor she showed to the
piratical bookseller Macklot.

The circumstance, however, of importance for me, was, that
the yoimg duke of Saxe- Weimar had an-ived here to enter
into a formal matrimonial engagement with his noble bride,
the princess Loidsa of Hesse-Dannstadt ; President vou
Moser had already arrived on the same business, in order to
settle this important contract with the court-tutor Count
Görtz, and fully to ratify it. My conversations with both
the high personages were most friendly, and at the farewell
audience, they both made me repeated assurances that it
would be pleasant to them to see me at Weimar.

Some private conversations with Klopstock, won me by the
fi-iendliness they showed, and led me to use openness and' can-
dour with him. I commimicated to him the latest scenes of
Faust, which he seemed to approve of Indeed, as I afterwards
learned, he had spoken of them to others Avith marked com-
mendation, a thing not usual Mith him, and expressed a wish
to see the conclusion of the piece.

Our former rudeness, though sometimes as we called it. our
genius-like demeanom-, M'as kept in something like a chaste
Vol. II. I

114 TKUTH ANS POETRY; FHOM 5IY OWN LIFE.

restraint in Carlsruhe, which is decent and almost holy
gi-ound. I parted fi-om my companions, as I had resolved to
take a wide round and go to Emmendingen, where my brother-
in-law was high bailiff. I looked upon this visit to my sister
as a real trial. I knew that her married life was unhappy,
while there was no cause to find fault witli her, with her hus-
band, or with circumstances. She was of a peculiar nature,
of which it is difficult to sj)eak ; we will endeavoiu-, however,
to set down here whatever admits of being described.

A fine fonn was in her favor; but not so her features, which,
although expressing clearly enough, goodness, intelligence,
and sensibility, were nevertheless wanting in regularity and
grace.

Add to this, that a high and strongly arched forehead, ex-
posed stiU more by the abominable fashion of dressing the
hail" back on the head, contributed to leave a certain unplea-
sant impression, although it bore the best testimony to her
moral and intellectual qualities. I can fancy, that if after
the modern fashion, she had surrounded the upper part of her
face with curls, and clothed her temples and cheeks with
ringlets, she would have found herself more agreeable before
the mirror, without fear of displeasing others as well as her-
self. Then there was the grave fault, that her skin was
seldom clean, an evil Avhich from her youth up, by some
demoniacal fatality, was most sure to show itself on all festal
occasions, and at concerts, balls, and other parties.

In spite of these drawbacks she gradually made her way.
however, as her better and nobler qualities showed themselves
more distinctly.

A firm character not easily controlled, a soul that sympa-
thised and needed sympathy, a highly cultivated mind, fine
acquirements and talents; some knowledge of languages and
a ready pen — all these she possessed — so that if she had been
more richly favored with outward charms, she would have
been among the women most sought after in her day.

Besides all this there is one strange thing to be mentioned :
there was not the slightest touch of sensual passion in her
nature. She had growm up Avith me, and had no other wish
than to continue and pass her life in this fraternal imion.
Since my return from the Academy we had been inseparable ;
with the'most um-esen-ed confidence we shared all our thoughts.

MY SISTEE. 115

feelings, and humors, and CTcn the most incidental and pass-
ing impressions of eveiy accidental circumstance. "Wlien I
went to Wetzlar, the loneliness of the house without me
seemed insupportable ; my friend Schlosser, neither imknown
nor repugnant to the good girl, stepped into my place. Iü
him, unfortimately, the brotherly affection changed into a
decided, and to judge from his strictly conscientious character,
probably a fii'st passion. Here there was found what people
call as good a match as coidd be ^sished, and my sister, after
having stedfastly rejected several good offers, but from
insignificant men, whom she always had an aversion to,
allowed herseK to be, I may well say, talked into accepting
him.

I must fi-anldy confess that I have frequently indvdged in
fancies about my sister's destiny, I did not like to think of her
as the mistress of a famih', but rather as an Abbess, as the
Lady Superior of some noble community. She possessed
everj' requisite for such a high position, while she was want-
ing in all that the woidd deems indispensable in its members.
Over feminine soiüs she always exercised an irresistible influ-
ence ; young minds were gently attracted towards her, and she
ruled them by the spirit of her inward superiority. As she
had in common with me an universal tolerance for the good,
the human, with all its eccentricities, provided they did not
amount to perversity, there was.no need for seeking to conceal
from her any idiosyncrasy which might mark any remarkable
natural talents, or for its owner feeling any constraint in her
presence; hence oui- parties, as we have seen before, were
always varied, free, ingejjuous, and sometimes perhaps bor-
dering on boldness. My habit of foi-ming intimacies with
young ladies of a respectful and obliging nature, without
allowing any closer engagement or relations to gi-ow out of
them, was mainly owing to my sister's influence over me.
And now the sagacious reader, who is capable of reading into
these Hnes what does not stand written in them, but is never-
theless implied, will be able to form some conopption of the
serious feeUngs with which I then set foot in Emmendingen. •

But at my departure, after a short risit, a heavier load lay
on my heart, for my sister had earnestly recommended not to
say enjoined me, to break ofi" my connection with Lilli. She
herself Jiad sufiered much from along-protracted engjigement;

l2

116 TEXJTII AND rOEXKY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

-Schlosser, with his spirit of rectitude, did not betroth himself
to her, until he was sure of his appointment under the Grand
Duke of Baden ; indeed, if one would take it so, mitil he was
actually appointed. The answer to his application, however,
was delayed in an incredible manner. If I may express my
conjecture on the matter, the brave Schlosser, able man of
business as he was, was nevertheless on account of his down-
right integrity, desirable neither to the prince as a servant,
immediately in contact with himself, nor to the minister, Avho
still less liked to have so honest a coadjutor near to him.
His expected and earnestly desired appointment at Carlsruhe
was ne\'er filled up. But the delay was explained to me,
when the place of Upper Bailiff in Emmendingen became
vacant, and he was instantly selected for it. Thus an office
•of much dignity and profit was now intrusted to him, for
which he had shown him'ielf fully competent. It seemed
«entirely suited to his taste, his mode of action, to stand here
-{done to act accoi-ding to his own conviction, and to be held
responsible for everything, whether for praise or blame.

As no objections could be raised to his accepting this place,
my sister had to follow him, not indeed to a Court-residence,
as she had hoped, but to a place which must have seemed to
her a solitude, a desert ; to a dwelling, spacious to be sure,
with an oflicial dignity, and stately, but destitute of all chance
of society. Some young ladies, with whom she had cultivated
-an early friendship, followed her there, and as the Gerock
family was blessed with many daughters, these contrived to
■stay with her in turn, so that, in the midst of such privation,
.she always enjoyed the presence of at least one long-trusted
friend.

These circumstances, these e-x^Dcriences, made her feel
justified in recommending to me, most earnestly, a separation
from Lilli. She thought it hard to take such a young lady
(of whom she had formed the highest ojnnion) out of the
midst of a lively, if not splendid circle, and to shut her up in
our old house, which, although very passable in its Avay, was
not suited for the reception of distinguished society, sticking
her, as it were, between a well-disposed, but unsociable, pre-
cise, and formal father, and a mother extremely active in her
<lomestic matters, Avho, after the household business of the
day was over would not like to be disturbed over some

SCHAFFHAUSEN — ZURICH LAVATER. 117

notable bit of work by a friendly conversation with forward
and refined young girls. On the other hand, she in a lively
manner set Lilli's position before me; for, partly in my
letters, parth' in a confidential but impassioned conversation,
I had told her everything to a haii\

Unfortunately her description was only a cii'curastantial
and well-meant completion of what a gossiping friend, iu
whom, by degrees, all confidence ceased to be placed, had
contrived by mentioning a few characteristic traits to insi-
nuate into her mind.

I could promise her nothing, although I was obliged to
confess that she had convinced me. I went on with that
enigmatic feeling in my heart, with which passion always
nourishes itself; for the Child Cupid clings obstinately to the
garment of Hope, even when she is preparing with long steps
to flee away.

The only thing between this place and Zurich which I now
clearly remember, is the falls of the Rhine at Schaff hausen.
A mighty cascade here gives the indication of the momi-
taiuous region which we designed to enter ; where, each step
becoming steeper and more difficult, we should have labori-
ously to clamber up the heigths.

The ^•iew of the lake of Zurich, which we enjoyed from tho
gate of the ^^ Siconl,'' is still before me; I say from the gate
of the tavern, for, without stopping to enter it, I hastened to y
Lavater. He gave me a cheerful and hearty reception, and
was, I must confess, extremely gracious; confiding, con-
siderate, kind, and elevating was his bearing, indeed, it woidd
be impossible to expect anything else of him. His wife, with
somewhat singular, but serene tenderly pious expression of-
countenance, fidly harmonized, like everything else about
him, with his way of thinking and li^-ing.

Our first, and perhaps only theme of conversation, "was his
system of Physiognomy. Tlie first part of this remarkable
work, was, if I mistake not, already printed, or, at least, near
its completion. It might be said to be at once stamped with,
genius and yet empirical ; methodical, but stül in its instances
incomplete and partial. I was stranglj- connected with it,
Lavater wanted all the world for co-operators and sym-
pathizers. During his travels up the Rhine, he had portraits
taken of a great many distinguished men, in order to excito

1^

lis TKUTH AXD POETRY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE.

their personal interest in a work in which they were to
appear. He proceeded in the same way ■sAith artists; he
called upon evei-y one to send him drawings for illustrations.
The latter came, and many were not exactly suited for his
pm-pose. So, too, he had copper-plates engraved in aU parts,
which seldom turned out characteristic copies. Much labor
had been bestowed on his part ; with money and exertions of
all kinds an important work was now ready, and full honor
was done to Physiognomy. But when in a gi'eat volume, illus-
trated by examples. Physiognomy, founded on doctrine, was
to set up its claims to the dignity of science, it was found
that not a single picture said what it ought to say ; all the
rtlates had to be censm'ed or to be taken with exceptions,
none to be praised, but only tolerated ; many, indeed, were
quite altered by the explanations. For me, who in all my
studies sought a firm footing before I went fiuther, I had
now to perform one of the most painful tasks which industiy
could be set to. Let the reader judge. The manuscript, Avith
impressions of the plates inserted was sent to me at Frank-
fort. I was authorized to strike out whatever displeased me,
to change and put in what I liked. However I made a very
moderate use of this liberty. In one instance he had intro-
duced a long and violent piece of controversy against an
unjust orator, which I left out, and substituted a cheei-ful
poem about nature ; for this he scolded me, but afterwards,
when he had cooled down, approved of what I had done.

"\Mioever turns over the four volumes of Physiognomy, and
(what he will not repent of) reads them, may conceive the
interest there was in our inten-iews, during which, as most of
the plates contained in it were akeady drawn and i:)art of
them had been engraved, we examined, and decided on those
fit to be inserted in the work, and considered the ingenious
means by which those, which did not exactly tally with its
piinciples, might be made instructive and suitable.

^Mienever at present I look through the work of Lavater,
a strange comic, merry feeling comes over me : it seems as
if I saw before me the shadows of men formerly known to
me, over whom I once fretted, and in whom I find little
satisfaction now.

The possibility, however, of retaining in some sort, much
that otherwise would have been imsuitable, was owing to the

VISIT XO EODMEK. 119

fine and decided talent of the sketcher and engraver, lips.
He was, in fact, bom for the free prosaic representation of
the actual, which ^vas precisely the thing wanted in this case.
He worked under a singularly exacting physiognomist, and
therefore was obhged to look sharp to approximate to the
demands of his master ; the clever peasant-boy felt the whole
responsibihty of working for a clerical gentleman fi-om a city
so highly privileged, and gave his best care to the business.

Li^ing in a separate house from my companions, I became
ever)' day more of a stranger to them, without the least un-
pleasant feeHng having arisen ; our riu-al excui'sions were no
longer made together, although in the city we still kept up
some intercom-se. With all the aiTogance of young counts
they had honored Lavater with a -sisit and appeared to the
skLLftd physiognomist somewhat different from what they did
to the rest of the world. He spoke to me about them, and I
remember quite well, that, spealdng of Leopold Stolberg, he
exclaimed : "I know not what you all mean; he is a noble,
excellent youth, and fuU of talent; but you have described
him to me as a hero, as a Hercules, and I have never in my
life seen a softer and more sensitive young man; nor, if need
be, one more easUy influenced. I am still far fr-om ha^•ing
formed a clear physiognomical judgment of him, but as for
you and all the rest, you are in a fog altogether."

Since Lavater's journey on the Lower Rhine, the public
interest in him and his physiognomical studies had greatly
increased ; visitors of all sorts crowded upon him, so that he
Jfelt in some sort embarrassed at being looked upon as the
first of spiritual and intellectual men, and the chief point of
attraction for strangers. Hence, to avoid en^T and all Tin-
pleasant feeUngs, he managed to remind and warn his visitors
that they must treat other distingidshed men with fi-iendship
and respect.

In this especial regard was had to the aged Bodmek, and,
accordingly, Ave were compelled to visit him and pay oui
youthfid resjDects to him. He lived on a hiU, above the large
or old town, which lay on the right banlc, where the lake
couti-acts its waters into the Limmat. We crossed the old
town, and, by a path that became steeper and steeper, at last
ascended the height behind the walls, where, between the
fortifications and the old wall, a pleasant suburb had sprang

120 TKt^TH AXD poetry; FROM MY OWX LIFE.

up, partly in continuous and partly in detached houses, with
a half countiy look. The house where Bodmer had passed
his whole life, stood in the midst of an open and cheerful
neighbourhood, Avhich, the day being beautiful and clear, we
often paused on our road to survey with the greatest pleasure.

We were conducted up a flight of steps into a wainscoted
chamber, where a brisk old man, of middle stature, came to
meet us. He received iis with his usual greeting to young
visitors ; telling us that we must consider it an act of courtesy
on his part to have delayed so long his dcj^arture from this
world in order that he might receive us kindly, form our
acquaintance, refresh himself with our talents, and wish us
joy in our future career.

We, on the other hand, congratulated him that, as a poet
belonging to the patriarchal world, he had yet in the neigh-
bom-hood of the most highly cultivated city, possessed during
his wliole life a truly idyllic dwelling, and, in the high free
air, had enjoyed for so many long years siicli a wide and
beautiful prospect to feed his eyes with unfading delight.

It seemed anything but displeasing to the old man when
Ave asked permission to take a view from his window of tho
neighbouring scenery ; and truly the prospect in the cheerful
sunshine, and in tlie best season of the year, appeared quite
incomparable. The prospect commanded much of the slope,
from the great to^wu down to the water's edge, as well as
the smaller town across the Limmat, and the whole of the
fertile Sihl-feld, towards the west. Behind us, on the left,
was a part of the lake of Zurich, with its bright rippled surj»
face, and its shores endlessly varying Avith alternating hill
and A'alley and height after height in greater A-ariety tlian the
eye could take in. Avhich, dazzled by this splendour, delighted
to rest on the blue range of the loftier mountains in the
distance, AA-hose snowy summits man has been so far inti-
mate Avith as to giA^e names to.

The rapture of us young men at sight of the marvellous
beauty which, for so many years, had daily been before him,
appeared to please the old poet; he became, so to speak,
ironically sympathizing, and Ave parted the best of friends,
but not before a yearning for those blue mountain heights
bad taken possession of om* souls.

Now I am on the point of leaving our Avorthy patriarch, I

PASSAVA>"T LAVATEK. 121

remark, for the first time, that I have as yet said nothing of
liis form and countenance, of his movements, and his carriage
and bearing.

In general, I do not think it quite right for travellers to
describe every distinguished man, whom they ■visit, as if they
■wanted to furnish materials for advertising a runaway. Xo
one sufficiently considers that he has only looked at the grca'S
man dm-ing the moment of introduction, and then only in his
ovra ■svay; and that according to the circumstances of the
moment the host may or not be ■what he seemed, proud or
meek, silent and talkative, cheei-ful or morose. In this par-
ticular case, however, I may excuse myself from the attempt,
by saying that no verbal description of Bodmer's venerable
person Avould convey an adequate impression. Fortunately
there exists a picture of him by Coimt von Bause, which per-
fectly represents the man as he appeared to us, and, indeed,
exactly preserves his peculiar penetrating and reflective
look.

A great, not indeed imexpected, but still liighly coveted
gratification awaited me in Zm"ich, where I met my young
friend, Passavant. Of a respectable family of the reformed
persuasion, and bom in my native city, he lived in Switzer-
land, at the fountain-head of the doctrine which he was after-
"wards to proclaim as a preacher. With a frame not large,
but active, his face and his whole manner promised a quick
and agreeable resoluteness of character. His hair and beai'd
were black, his eyes lively. On the whole, you saw in him a
man of some sensitiveness, but of moderate energy.

Scarcely had we embraced one another and exchanged the
first greeting, when he immediately proposed to me to 'visit
the smaller cantons. Ha-sdng himself already walked thi-ough
them with great delight, he wished, with the sight of them, to
awaken my rapture and enthusiasm.

"NMiile I was talking over, with Lavater, the most interest-
ing and important points of our common business, until we
had nearly exhausted them, my lively feUow-travellers had
already salUed forth in varioiis directions, and, in their o^nTi
fasliion, had examined the country. Passavant, receiving and
welcoming me with hearty friendship, believed that he had
gained thereby a right to the exclusive possession of my
society, and, therefore, in the absence of my companions, con-

122 ISÜTH AXD rOETßY: FEOM MY OWX LIFE.

trivcd to entice me to the mountains, the more easily, since I
was decidedly inclined to accomplish the long desii'ed ramble
in quiet and at liberty to follow my o\A"n wliims. Without
further deliberation, therefore, we stepped into a boat and
sailed up the glorious lake, on a fine clear morning.

A poem inserted here may give the reader some intimation
of those happy moments :

New di-aughts of strength and youtlifiü blood,

From this free world I've press'd;
Here natm-e is so mild, so good-^

Who clasjjs me to her breast.
The billows rock our little boat,

The oars in measure beat.
The hills, while clouds aromid them float,

Approach om* barque to meet.

Eye, mine eye, Avhy sink'st thou mourning?
Golden dreams, are ye retiu-niugr
Tliough thou"rt gold, thou dream, farewell ;
Here, too, life and love can dwell.

Countless stars are blinking,

In the waters here.
On the mountains drinking

Clouds of mist appear;
Round the cool bay flying,

Morning breezes wake,
Ripen" d frmts are lying

Mirror" d in the lake.

We landed in Eichters\v^'l, where we had an introduction
from Lavater to Doctor Hotze. As a physician, and a highly
intelligent and benevolent man, he enjoyed great esteem in
his immediate neighbom-hood and in the whole country, and
we can do no better honor to his memory than by referring to
a passage in Lavater's Physiognomy, which describes him.

After a veiy hospitable entertainment, which he relieved
vdth a highly agreeable and instructive conversation, describ-
ing to us the nest halting-places in ovu- journey, we ascended
the moimtains Avhich lay before us. "WTien we were about to
descend again into the vale of Schindellegi, we turned roimd

ST. 5IAEY's HEKiriTAGE. 123

to take in once more the charming prospect over the lake of
Zuiich.

Of my feelings at that moment some idea may be gathered
from the following lines, which, just as I wrote them do^ra,
are stul preserved in a little memorandmn book :

Dearest LilK, if I did not love thee,

I shoiild revel in a scene like this !
Yet. sweet Lüli, if I did not love thee,

^Miat were any bliss ?

This little impromptu reads to me more expressive in its
present context, than as it stands by itself in the printed col-
lection of my poems.

The rough roads, which led to St. Mary's hermitage, did
not wear out oui* good spirits. A nmnber of pilgiims, whom
we had remai'ked below upon the lake, now overtook us and
asked the aid of our prayers in behalf of their pious object.
We saluted them and let them pass, and as they moved
regidai'ly with theii- hymns and prayers, thev lent a charac-
teristic graceful animation to the drears- heights. "We saw
li%-ingly marked out the ser[)ent7ne path which we too had to
travel, and seemed to be joyously follo-n-ing. The customs
of the Romish church are altogether significant and imposing
to the Protestant, iaasmuch as he only recognises the inmost
principle, by which they were fii'st called forth, the human
element by which they are propagated from race to race ;
thus peneti-ating at once to the kernel, without troubling him-
self, just at the moment with the shell, the rind, or even "\^ith
the tree itself, its twigs, leaves, bark, and roots.

We now saw rising a ch-eary, treeless vale, the splendid
chiu'ch, the cloister, of broad and statelv compass, in the
midst of a neat place of sojomn for a large and varied assembly
of guests.

The little church within the church, the former hermitage
of the saint, incrusted with marble, and transformed as far as
possible into a regular chapel, was something new to me;
something that I had not seen, this little vessel, smrounded
and built over ^^•ith pillars and vaidts. It could not but
excite sober thoughts to reflect how a single spai'k of good-
ness, and of the fear of God, had here kindled a bright and
burning flame, so that troops of believers, never ceased to

124 TKUTH AXD POETRY; PEOil MY 0"\VX LIFK.

make painful pilgrimages in order to light their little tapers
at this holy tire. However the fact is to be explained, it
plainly points at least to an unbomided craA^ing in man, for
equal lischt, for equal warmth, with that which this old hermit
cherished and enjoyed in the deepest feeling and the most
secxu-e cou'^'iction. We were she^^Ti into the treasure chamber,
which Avas rich and imposing enough, and offered to the
astonished eye busts of the size of life, not to say colossal, of
the saints and founders of different orders.

A very different sort of feeling was awakened at the sight
of a closet opening upon this. It was filled with antique
valuables here dedicated and honored. My attention ^vas
fixed by various golden cro^A^lS of remarkable workmanship,
out of which I contemplated one exclusively. It was a
pointed crown, in the style of former days, such as one may
have seen in pictm-es on the heads of ancient queens, but of a
most tasteful design and of highly elaborate execution. The
colored stones with which it was studded M-ere distributed
over it or set opposite to each other, with great effect and
judgment; it was, in short, a work of that kind which one
would pronounce perfect at the first glance, without waiting
to bring out this impression by an appeal to the laws of art.

In such cases, where the art is not recognised, but felt,
heart and soul are turned towards the object, one would like
to possess the jewel, that one might impart pleasure to others
with such a gift. I begged permission to handle the little
crown, and as I held it up respectfully in my hand, I could
not help thinking that I shoiild like to press it upon the
bright, glittering locks of Lilli, lead her before the miiTor,
and witness her own joy in it, and the happiness which she
spread around her. I have often thought since, that this
scene, if realized by a skilful painter, would be highly touch-
ing and full of meaning. It were worth one's while to be the
young king to receive a bride and a new kingdom in this
way.

In order to show us all the treasures of the cloister, they
led us into a cabinet of natural and artificial curiosities. I had
then but little idea of the value of such things ; at that time
geognosy, Avhich is so commendable in itself, but which frit-
ters away the impression produced by the earth's beautiful
sm-face on the mind's eye, had not begun to entice me, still

IHE SCHWYZEK-HAKEN. 125

less had a fantastic geology entangled me in its labp-inths.
Nevertheless, the monk who acted as our guide, compelled me
to bestow some attention on a fossil, much prized as he said
by connoisseurs, a small wild boar's head well preserved in a
lump of blue fuller's clay, which, black as it was, has dwelt in
my imagination ever since. They had found it in the country
of Rapperswyl, a district which ever since the memory of man
was so full of morasses, that it could well receive and keep
such mummies for posterity.

Far different attractions was presented to me by a copper-
plate engraving of jMartin Schön, which was kept under a
glass fi'ame, and represented the Assumption of the Virgin.
True, only a perfect specimen could give an idea of the art of
such a master ; but then we are so affected by it, as with the
perfect in everj' branch of art, that Ave cannot get rid of the
wish to possess something in some way like it, to be able con-
stantly to repeat the sight of it, however long a time may
intervene. Why should I not anticijiate and confess here,
that afterwards I could not rest until I had succeeded in
obtaining an excellent copy of this plate.

On the 16th of July, 1755 (for here I find a date first set
down), Ave entered upon a toilsome journey ; wild stony
heights were to be surmounted, and that, too, in a perfect
solitude and Avilderness. At a quarter before eight in the
evening, we stood before the Sch-\\yzer- Haken, two mountain
peaks which jut out boldly, side by side, into the sky. For
the first time we found snow upon our path, Avhere on the
lagged rocks it had been hanging since the winter. A prim-
eval forest, with its solemn awe, filled the immense valleys,
into which we were about to descend. Refreshed, after a
short rest, we sprang, with bold and light step, from cliff to
cliff, from ledge to ledge, down the precipitous foot-path, and
arrived by ten o'clock at SchAvyz. We had become at once
Aveary yet cheerful, exhausted yet excited ; we eagerly
quenched our violent thirst, and felt ourselves still more
inspired. Imagine the young man who but two years before
had written Wei-ther, and his still younger friend who still
earlier had read that remarkable work in manuscript, and had
been strangely excited by it, had transported in some respect
without their knowing it or wishing it, into a state of nature,
and there in the consciousness of rich powers, vividly recall-

126 TutTTH AKD poetky; tbom my own life.

ing past passions, clinging to those of the present, shaping
fruitless j^lans, rioting through the realm of fancy, and you
Avill be able to form some conception of our situation then,
which I shovild not know how to describe, if it did not stand
written in my journal : " Laughing and shouting lasted until
midnight."

On the morning of the 17th, we saw the Schwyzer-Haken
from our Avindows. Around these vast and irregular natural
pyramids, clouds rose upon clouds. At one in the afternoon
we left Schwyz, on our way to the Rigi ; at two we were on
the Lawerzer lake, the sun shining brilliantly on it and on us
all the while. For sheer delight we saw notliing. Two stout
maidens guided the boat ; that looked ])retty, and we made
no objection. We anived upon the island, on which they say
once lived the former lord of the castle ; be this as it may,
the hut of the anchorite has now planted itself amidst the
ruins.

We climbed the Rigi ; at half-past seven we stood at the
foot of the " Mother of God" covered in snow; then passed
the chapel and the numieiy, and rested at the hotel of the
Ox.

* On the 18th, Sunday morning early, we took a sketch of
tlie chapel from the Ox. At twelve Ave went to Kaltenbad, or
the fountain of the Three Sisters. By a quarter after two we
had reached the summit ; we fomid ourselves in the clouds,
this time doublj^ disagreeable to us, since they both hindered
the prospect and di-enched us with mist. But when, here and
there, they opened and showed us, framed as it were by their
ever-varying outline, a clear, majestic smi-lit world, with
the changing scenes of a diorama, we no longer lamented
these accidents ; for it was a sight Ave had ncA'er seen before
and should ncA'er behold again, and we lingered long in this
somewhat inconA'enient position, to catch, through the cliinks
and creA'ices of the ever-shifting masses of cloud, some little
point of simny earth, some little strip of shore, or pretty nook
of the lake.

By eight in the evening we were back again at the door of
the inn, and refreshed ourselves with baked fish and eggs,
and plenty of Avine.

As the twilight and the night gradually came on, our eai's
were filled Avith mysterioiisly harmonizing sounds ; the twink-

•WILLIAM TELL. 127

ling of the chapel bells, the splashing of the fonntaia, the
rustling of changeful breezes, vrith the homs of the foresters
in the distance ; — these were blest, soothing, tranquillising
moments.

At half-past six, on the morning of the 19th, first ascending
then going down by the Waldstätter Lake we came to Fitz-
nau ; from thence, by water, to Gersau. At noon, we were
in the hotel on the lake. About two o'clock we were oppo-
site to Griitli, where the three Tells consjoh-ed ; then upon the
flat rock where the hero sprang from his boat, and where the
legend of his life and deeds is recorded and immortalized
by a painting. At three we were at Flüelen, where he em-
barked ; and at four in Altorf, where he shot the apple.

Aided by tliis poetic thread one winds conveniently through
the labp-inth of these rocky walls which, descending perpen-
dicularly to the water, stand silently before us. They, the
immovable, stand there as quietly as the side-scenes of a
theatre ; success or failure, joy or sorrow, merely pertain to
the persons who for the day successively strut upon the
stage.

Such reflections, however, were wholly out of the circle of
the vision of the youths who then looked upon them ; what had
recently passed had been dismissed from their thoughts, and
the future lay before them as strangely inscrutable, as the
mountain region which they were laboriously penetrating.

On the 20th, we breakfasted at Amstäg, where they cooked
us a savoiuy dinner of baked fish. Here now, on this moun-
tain ledge, where the Reuss, which was at aU times wild
enough, was rushing from rugged clefts, and dashing the cool
snow-water over the rocky channels, I coiüd not help enjoy-
ing the longed-for opportunity and refi-eshing myself in the
foaming Avaves.

At three o'clock we proceeded onwards ; a row of sumpter-
horses went before us, we marched with them over a broad
mass of snow, and did not learn till afterwards, that it was
hollow imdemeath. The snows of winter, that had depo-
sited themselves here in a mountain gorge, which at other
seasons it was necessarj' to skirt circuitously, now furnished
us with a shorter and more direct road. But the waters which
forced theii* way beneath had gradually undermined the snowy.
mass, and the mild summer had melted more and more of the

12S TRUTH AND POEETY ] FIIOM MY OWN LIFE.

lower side of the vault, so that now, like a broad arched
bridge, it formed a natui'al connection between the opjjosite
sides, ^^"e convinced oiu'seh'es of this strange freak of nature
by venturing more than half way down into the broader part
of the gorge. As we kept ascending, we left pine forests in
the chasm, through which the Reuss from time to time
appeared, foaming and dashing over rocky preci^jiccs.

At half-past seven Ave arrived at Wasen, where, to render
palatable the red, heavy, sour Lombardy wine, we were
forced to have recourse to water, and to supply, by a great
deal of sugar, the ingredient which nature had refused to ela-
borate in the grape. The landlo]"d showed us some beautiful
crvstals ; but I had, at that time, so little interest in the study
of nature and such specimens, that I did not care to burden
myself with these mountain products, however cheaply they
might be bought.

On the 21st, at half-past six, we were still ascending; the
rocks grew more and more stupendous and awful ; the path
to the Teufehtein (Devil's Stone), from which we were to gain
a view of the Devil" s Bridge, was still more difficvilt. My
companion being disposed for a rest, proposed me to sketch
the most important views. My outlines were, perhaps, tole-
rably successful, but nothing seemed to stand out, nothing to
retire into the distance; for such objects I had no language.
We toiled on fuilher ; the horrors of the mlderness seemed
continually to deepen, planes became hills, and hollows
chasms. And so my guide conducted me to the cave or
Ursern, through which I walked in somewhat of an ill humor ;
Avhat Ave had seen thus for was, at any rate, sublime, this
darkness took everything away.

But the roguish guide anticipated the joyful astonishment
which would oA'erwhelm me on my egress. There the mode-
rately foaming stream wound mildly through a level vale sur-
rounded by mountains, but wide enough to invite habitation.
Above the clean little village of Ursern and its church, Avhich
stood opposite to us on a level plot, rose a pine-grove which
was held sacred, because it protected the inhabitants at its foot
from the rolling of the avalanches. Here we enjoyed the
sight of long-missed vegetation. The meadows of the val-
ley, just beginning to look green, were adorned along the
river side Avith short AviUows The tranquillity was great ;

THE HOSPICE. 129

upon the level paths we felt our powers revive again, and my
fellow- traveller was not a little proud of the surprise which
he had so skiLfuUy contrived.

The meadows produce the celebrated Ursern cheese, and
the youthful travellers, high in spirits, pronounced very
tolerable wine not to be siupassed in order to heighten their
enjoyment, and to give a more fantastic impulse to their pro-
jects.

On the 22nd, at half-past three, we left om- quarters, that
from the smooth Ursern vaUey we might enter upon the stony
valley of Liviner. Here, too, we at once missed all vegetation ;
nothing was to be seen or heard but naked or mossy rocks
covered with snow, fitful gvists blo-^äng the clouds backwards
and forwards, the rustling of waterfalls, the tinkling of sump-
ter-horses in the depth of solitude, where we saw none coming
and none departing. It did not cost the imagination much
to see dragons' nests in the clefts. But, nevertheless, Ave felt
inspired and elevated by one of the most beautiful and pic-
turesque waterfalls, subHmely various in all its rocky steps,
which, being at this time of the year enriched by melted
snows, and now half hidden by the clouds, now half revealed,
chained us for some time to the spot.

Finally, we came to little mist-lakes, as I might call them,
since they were scarcely to be distinguished from the atmo-
spheric streaks. Before long, a building loomed towards us
out of the vapour : it was the Hospice, and we felt great
satisfaction at the thoughts of sheltering ourselves under its
hospitable roof.

Vol. II.

NINETEENTH BOOK.

Announced by the low barking of a little clog whicb ran out
to meet us, we were cordially received at the door by an
elderly but active female. She apologised for the absence
of the Pater, who had gone to Milan, but was expected home
that evening ; and immediately, without any more words, set
to work to proA-ide for our comfort and wants. We were
sho^^^l into a warm and spacious room, where bread, cheese,
and some passable wine were set before us, with the promise
of a more substantial meal for our supper. The surprise of the
day was now talked over, and my friend was not a little proud
that all had gone off so well, and that we had passed a day
the impressions of which neither poetry nor prose could ever
reproduce.

At length with the twilight, which did not here come on till
late, the venerable father entered the room, greeted his guests
with dignity but in a friendly and cordial manner, and in a few
words ordered the cook to pay all possible attention to om- wishes.
When we expressed the wonder we could not repress, that he
could like to pass his life up here, in the midst of such a perfect
wilderness, out of the reach of all society, he assured us that
society was never wanting, as our own welcome visit might
testify. A lively trade, he told us, was kept up between Italy
and Germany. This continual traffic brought him into rela-
tion with the first mercantile houses. He often went do"mi to
Milan, and also to Lucern, though not so frequently, from
which place, however, the houses which had charge of the
posting on the main route, frequently sent young people to
him, who, here at the point of passage between the two coun-
tries, required to be made acquainted with all the circiun-
stances and events connected with such affairs.

Amid such varied conversation the evening passed away,
and we slept a quiet night on somewhat short sleeping-places,
fastened to the wall, and more like shelves than bedsteads.

Rising early, I soon found myself mider the open sky, but
in a narrow space surrounded by tall mountain-tops. I sat
down upon the foot-path which led to Italy, and attempted»

DISTANT VIEW OF ITALY. 131

after the manner of dilettanti, to draw what could not be
dra"svn, still less m.tke a picture, namely, the nearest moun-
tain-tops, whose sides, with their white furrows and black
ridges, were gradually made visible by the melting of the
snow. Nevertheless, that fruitless effort has impressed the
image indelibly on my memory.

My companion stepped briskly up to me, and began : " What
say you of the story of our spiritual host, last evening? Have
not ynu as well as myself, felt a desire to descend from this
dragon's height into those charming regions below ? A ram-
ble through these gorges must be glorious and not very toil-
some ; and when it ends with BelHnzona, what a pleasiu-e that
must be ! The words of the good father have again brought
a living image before my soul of the isles of the Lago Mag-
giore. We have heard and seen so much of them since
Keysslcr's travels, that I cannot resist the temptation."

" Is it not so with you too ? " he resumed; " you are sitting
on exactly the right spot; I stood there once, but had not
the courage to jump down. You can go on Avithout cere-
mony, wait for me at Airolo, I will follow with the coui'icr
when I have taken leave of the good father and settled every-
thing."

" Such an enterprise," I replied, "so suddenly xmdertaken,
does not suit me." "What's the use of deliberating so much ? "
cried he ; " we have money enough to get to Milan, where we
shall find credit ; through our fair, I know more than one mer-
cantile friend there." He grew still more urgent. " Go ! "
said I, " and make all ready for the departure, then we wiU
decide."

In such moments it seems to me as if a man feels no reso-
lution in himself, but is rather governed and determined by
earlier impressions. Lombardy and Italy lay before me,
altogether foreign land; while Germany, as a well-known
dear home, full of friendly, domestic scenes, and where, let me
confess it, — was that which had so long entirely enchained
me, and on which my existence was centred, remained even
now the most indispensable element, beyond the limits of
wliich I felt afraid to step. A little golden heart, which in
my happiest hours, I had received from her, still hung love-
warmed about my neck, suspended by the same ribbon to
which she had tied it. Snatching it from my bosom, I loaded

k2

132 TRUTH AND poetky; troji my own life.

it with kisses. This incident gave rise to a poem, which I
here insert: —

Round my neck, suspended, as a token

Of those joys, that s^^'iftly pass'd away,

Art thou here that thou may" st lengthen love's short day,

StiU binding, when the bond of souls is broken?

LiUi, from thee I fly; yet I am doom"d to feel

Thy fetters still,

Though to strange vales and mountains I depart,

Yes, Lilli"s heart must yet remain

Attached to my fond heart.

Thus the bird, snapping his string in twain,

Seeks his wood, — his o^^^l,

Still a mark of bondage bearing.

Of that string a fragment Avearing.

The old — the free-bom bird — he cannot be again,

"\Mien once a master he has known.

Seeing my friend with the guide, who carried our knapsack,
come storming up the heights, I rose hastily and removed
from the precipice, where I had been watching his return,
lest he shoidd drag me do^vn into the abyss with him. I also
saluted the pious father, and tm-ned, without sa}"ing a word,
to the path by which we had come. ?.Iy fi-iend followed me,
somewhat hesitating, and in spite of his love and attachment
to me, kept for a long time at a distance behind, till at last
a glorious waterfall brought us again together for the rest of
our journey, and what had been once decided, was fi-om
henceforth looked upon as the wisest and the best.

Of our descent I wiU only remark that we now fomid the
snow-bridge, over which we had securely travelled with a
heavj'-laden train a few days before, all fallen in, and that now,
as we had to make a circuit roimd the opened thicket, we
were filled with astonishment and admiration by the colossal
fi-agments of that piece of natural architecture.

My friend could not quite get over his disappointment at
not returning into Italy; very Ukelj' he had thought of the
plan some time before, and wäth amiable cimniug had hoped
to surprise me on the spot. On this account our return did
jxot proceed so merrily as our advance : but I was occupied all

KÜSXACHT — TELL. 13.3^

the more constantly on my silent route, witli tryino; to fix. at
least in its more comprehensible and characteristic details,
that sense of the sublime and vast, which, as time advances,
usually grows contracted in our minds.

Not without many both new and renewed emotions and'
reflections did we pass over the remai-kable heights about the
Vierwaldstatter Lake, on our way to Küssnacht, Avhere hav-
ing landed and pursued om- ramble, we had to greet Tell's
chapel, which lay on our route, and to reflect upon that assas-
sination which, in the eyes of the whole world, is so heroical,
patriotic, and glorious. So, too, we sailed over the Zuger
Lake, which we had seen in the distance as we looked down
from Rigi. In Zug, I only remember some painted glass,
inserted into the casement of a chamber of the inn, not large
to be sure, but excellent in its way. Oiur route then led over
the Albis into the Sihl valley, where, by visiting a young
Hanoverian, Von Lindau, who delighted to live there in soli-
tude, we sought to mitigate the vexation which he had felt
some time before in Zurich, at our declining the ofier of his
company not in the most friendly or polite manner. The
jealous friendship of the worthy Passavant M-as really the
reason of my rejecting the truly dear, but inconvenient presence
of another.

But before we descend again from these glorious heights,
to the lake and to the pleasantly situated citj-, I must make
one more remark vipon my attempts to cany away some idea.
of the country by drawing and sketching. A habit from
youth vipward of viewing a landscape as a picture, led me,
whenever I observed any picturesque spot in the natural
sceneiy, to try and fix it, and so to preserve a s ire memoiial
of such moments. But having hitherto only exercised myself
on confined scenes, I soon felt the incompetency of my art for
such a world.

The haste I was in at once compelled me to have recourse
to a singular expedient : scarcely had I noticed an interesting
object, and with light and vcr\' sketchy strokes di-a-w-n the
outlines on the paper, than I noted do^^'n, in words, the par-
ticular objects which I had no time to catch and fill up with
the pencil, and, by this means, made the scenes so thoroughly
present to my mind, that every locality, whenever I afterwards
wanted it for a poem or a storj', floated at once before me and
was entirely at my command.

134 TKUTH AND POETRY: FKOK MY OWN LIFE.

On returning to Zurich, I found the Stolbergs were gone ;
their stay in this city had been cut short in a singular
manner.

It must be confessed that travellers upon removing to a
distance from the restraints of home, are only too apt to think
they are stepping not only into an unknown, but into a per-
fectly free world ; a delusion which it was the more easy to
indulge in at this time, as there was not as yet any passports
to be examined by the police, or any tolls and such like checks
and hindi-ances on the liberty of travellers, to remind men
that abroad they are subject to still worse and more painful
restraints than at homt.

If the reader will only "beai* in mind this decided tendency
to reaHze the freedom of natvire, he will be able to pardon the
young spirits who regarded Switzerland as the very place
in which to " Idyllize " the fresh independence of youth.
The tender poems of Gessner, as well as his charming sketches,
seemed decidedly to justify this expectation.

In fact, bathing in wide waters seems to be one of the best
qualifications for expressing such poetic talents. Upon om*
journey thus far, such natm-al exercises had not seemed
exactly suitable to modem customs, and we had, in some
degree, abstained from them. But, in Switzerland, the sight
of the cool stream, — flowing, running, rushing, then gather-
ing on the plain, and gradually spreading out to a lake, —
presented a temptation that was not to be resisted. I can
not deny that I joined my companions in bathing in the clear
lake, but we chose a spot far enough, as Ave supposed, from
all human eyes. But naked bodies shine a good way, and
whoever chanced to see us doubtless took offence.

The good innocent youths who thought it nowise shocking
to see themselves half naked, like poetic shepherds, or entirely
naked, Uke heathen deities, were admonished by their
friends to leave off all such practices. They were given to
understand that they were living not in primeval nature, but
in a land where it was esteemed good and salutary to adliere
to the old institutions and customs which had been handed
down from the middle ages. They were not disinclined to
acknowledge the propriety of all this, especially as the appeal
was made to the middle ages, which, to them, seemed vener-
able as a second nature. Accordingly, they left the more

ANECDOTE OF THE STOLBEKGS. 135

public lake shores, but when in their walks through the
mountains, they fell in with the clear, rustling, refreshing
streams, it seemed to them impossible, in the middle of July,
to abstain from the refreshing exercise. Thus, on their wide
sweeping walks, they came also to the shady vale, where the
Sihl, streaming behind the Albis, shoots down to empty itself
into the Limmat below Zurich. Far from every habitation,
and even from all trodden foot-paths, they thought there could
be no objection here to their throwing off their clothes and
boldly meeting the foamiug waves. This was not indeed
done without a shriek, without a wüd shout of joy, excited
partly by the chill and partly by the satisfaction, by which
they thought to consecrate these gloomy, wooded rocks into
an Idyllic scene.

But, whether persons previously ill-disposed had crept after
them, or whether this poetic tumvdt called forth adversaries
even in the solitude, cannot be determined. Suffice it to say,
stone after stone was thrown at them from the motionless
bushes above, whether by one or more, whether accidentally
or purposely, they could not tell ; however, they thought it
wisest to renounce the quickening element and look after
their clothes.

No one got hit; they sustained no inj my but the moral one
of surprise and chagrin, and fuU of young life as they were,
they easily shook off the recollection of this awkward affair.

But the most disagreeable consequences fell upon Lavater,
who was blamed for having given so friendly a welcome to
such saucy youths, as even to have arranged walks with them,
and otherwise to shew attention to persons whose wild, un-
bridled, unchristian, and even heathenish habits, had caused
so much scandal to a moral and well-regulated neighbour-
hood.

Our clever friend, however, who well knew how to smooth
over such impleasant occurrences, contrived to hush up this
one also, and after the departure of these meteoric travellers,
we found, on oui- return, peace and quiet restored.

In the fragment of \Verther"s travels, which has lately been
reprinted in the sixteenth volume of my works, I have
attempted to describe this contrast of the commendable order
and legal restraint of Switzerland, with that life of natm-e
which youth in its delusions so loudly demands. But, as

136 TKUTH AND POETRY; FEOM MT OWN LIFE.

people generally are apt to take all that the poet advances
without reserve for his decided opinions, or even didactic
censm'C, so the Swiss were very much offended at the com-
parison, and I, therefore, dropped the intended continuation,
which was to have represented, more or less in detail, Wer-
ther's progress up to the epoch of his sorrows, and which,
therefore, would certainly have been interesting to those who
wish to study mankind.

Arrived at Zurich, I devoted my time almost exclusively
to Lavatcr, whose hospitality I again made use of. The Phy-
siognomy, with all its portraits and monstrous caricatures,
weighed heavily and with an ever-increasing load on the
shoulders of the worthy man. We arranged all as wcU as we
could under the circumstances, and I promised him, on my
retiun home, to continue my assistance.

I was led to give this ])romise by a certain youthful un-
limited confidence in my own quicknessof comprehension, and
still more by a feeling of my readiness of adaptation to any
subject ; for, in truth, the way in which Lavatcr dissected phy-
siognomies was not at all in my vein. The impression which at
our first meeting, he had made upon me, determined, in some
degree, my relation to him ; although a general wish to oblige
which was always strong, joined to the light-heartedness of
youth, had a great share in all my actions by causing me
to see things in a certain twilight atmosphere.

Lavater's mind was altogether an imposing one; in his
society it was impossible to resist his decided influence, and I
had no choice but to submit to it at once and set to work ob-
serving foreheads and noses, eyes and mouths, in detail, and
weighing their relations and proportions. My fellow observer
did this from necessity, as he had to give a perfect account of
what he himself had discerned so clearly; but to me it always
seemed like a trick, a piece of espionage, to attempt to ana-
lyse a man into his elements before his face, and so to get
upon the track of his hidden moral peculiarities. I had more
pleasure in listening to his conversation, in which he unveiled
himself at will. And yet, I must confess, I always felt a
degree of constraint in Lavater's presence ; for, while by his
art of physiognomy, he possessed himself of our peculiarities,
he also made himself, by conversation, master of om* thoughts,
which, with a little sagacity, he would easily guess from our
variety of phi'ases.

LAVATER HIS CHARACTER AND WORKS. 137

He who feels a pregnant synthesis in himself, has pecu-
liarly a right to analyse, since by the outward particulars he
tests and legitimizes his inward whole. How Lavater ma-
naged in such cases, a single example will suffice to show.

On Sundays, after the sermon, it was his duty, as an eccle-
siastic, to hold the short- handled, velvet, alms- bag before each
one who went out, and to bless as he received the pious gift.
Now, on a certain Sunday he proposed to himself, without
looking at the several persons as they dropped in their offer-
ings, to observe only their hands, and by them, silently, to
judge of the forms of their o^^^ler. Not only the shape of the
finger, but its peculiar action in dropping the gift, Avas atten-
tively noted by him, and he had much to communicate to me
on the conclusions he had formed. How instructive and
exciting must such conversations have been to one, who also
was seeking to qualify himself for a painter of men !

Often in my after life had I occasion to think of Lavater,
who was one of the best and worthiest men that I ever formed
so intimate a relation with. Tbese notices of him that I have
introduced in this work were accordingly written at various
times. Following our divergent tendencies, we gradually
became strangers to each other, and yet I never could bring
myself to jjart with the favorable idea which his worth had
left upon my mind. In thought I often brought him before
me, and thus arose these leaves, which, as they were writ-
ten without reference to and independently of each other,
may contain some repetitions, but, it is hoped, no contra-
dictions.

By his cast of mind, Lavater was a decided realist, and
knew of nothing ideal except in a moral form ; by keeping
this remark steadily in mind, you will most readily under-
stand this rare and singular man.

His Prospects of Eternity look merely for a continuance of
the present state of existence, under easier conditions than
those which we have now to endure. His Physioynomy rests
on the conviction that the sensible corresponds throughout
with the spiritual, and is not only an evidence of it, buf
indeed its representative.

The ideals of art found little fiivor with him, because with

138 TRUTH AKD POETKY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

his sliarp look he saw too clearly the impossibility of such
conceptions evei- being embodied in a living organization, and
he therefore banished them into the realm of fable, and even
of monstrosity.

His incessant demand for a realization of the ideal gained
him the reputation of a A^siouary, although he maintained and
felt convinced that no man insisted more strongly on the
actual than he did; accordingly, he never could detect the
error in his mode of thinking and acting.

Seldom has there been a man who strove more passionately
than he did for public recognition, and thus he was particu-
larly fitted for a teacher; but if all his labors tended to the
intellectual and moral improvement of others, this was by no
means their ultimate aim.

To realize the character of Christ was what he had most at
heart ; hence that almost insane zeal of his to have pictures
of Christ drawn, copied, moulded, one after another ; none of
which, however, as to be expected, ever satisfied him.

His ^vritings are hard to understand, even now, for it is far
from easy to penetrate into his precise meaning. No one
ever WTote so much of the times, and for the times, as Lava-
ter ; his -OTitings are veritable journals, Avhich in an especial
manner require to be explained by the history of the day;
they, moreover, are written in the language of a coterie,
which one must fii'st acquaint oneself Math, before we can
hold communion with them, otherwise many things wiU
appear stupid and absvird even to the most intelligent reader.
Indeed, objections enough of the kind have been made against
this author, both in his lifetime and since.

Thus, for example, with oiu- rage for dramatizing and repre-
senting under this form all that struck us, and caring for
no other. Ave once so w^armed his brain with a dramatic
ardour, that, in his Pontius Pilate, he labored very hard to
show that there is no more dramatic work than the Bible;
and, especially, that the history of Christ's Passion must be
regarded as the drama of all dramas.

In this chapter, and indeed throughout the work, Lavater
appears greatly to resemble Father Abraham of Santa Clara ;
for into this manner eveiy richly gifted mind necessarily falls
Avho wishes to work upon his contemporaries. He must
acquaint himself with existing tendencies and passions, with

XAVATEK HIS CHAEACTEE AXD WOKKS. 139

the speech and terminology of the day, and adapt them to
his ends, in order to approach the mass whom he seeks to
influence.

Since Lavater took Chi-ist literally, — as described by the
Scriptures, and by most commentators, — he let this represen-
tation serve so far for the supplement of his own being, that
he ideally incorporated the God-man into his ov^ii individual
humanity, imtil he finally was able to imagine himself melted
into one and united wdth him, and, indeed, to have become
the same person.

This decidedly literal faith had also worked in him a per-
fect con^dction that miracles can be wrought to-day as weU.
as heretofore. Accordingly, since in some important and
trying emergencies of his earlier days, he had by means of
earnest and indeed violent prayer, succeeded in procuring an
instantaneoxis and favorable turn of the impending calamity,
no mere cold objections of the reasoning intellect would make
him for a moment waver in this faith. Penetrated, more-
over, by the idea of the greatness and excellence of Humanity
as restored by Christ, and thi-ough Him destined to a blissful
immortaUty, but, at the same time, fully sensible of the mani-
fold requisitions of man's heart and mind, and of his insatiable
yearnings after knowledge, and, moreover, feehng in himself
that desire of expanding himseK into the infinite to which the
stany heavens seem so sensibly to invite us, he MTote under
these feelings his ^'' Prospects of Eternity " which must have
appeared a very strange book indeed to the greater pai't of
his contemporaries.

All this striving, however, aU wishes, all laidertakings,
were overborne by the genius for physiognomy, which natm-e
had bestowed upon him. For, as the touchstone, by its
blackness and peculiar roughness of sui'face, is eminently
fitted to distinguish between the metals Avhich are applied to
it; so that pure idea of humanity, which Lavater carried
within himself, and that shai-p yet delicate gift of observation,
which at first he exercised from natural impulse occasionally
only and accidentally, but afterwards with deliberate reflection
and regularly, qualified him in the highest degree to note the
pecuUarities of individual men, and to imderstand, distinguish,
and express them.

140 TRUTH A^'D POETBT; FKOM ifT OWN LIFE.

Every talent which rests on a decided natural gift, seems
from our inability to subordinate either it or its operations to
any idea to have something of magic about it. And, in truth,
Lavater's insight into the characters of individuals surpassed
all conception ; one was utterly amazed at his remarks, when
in confidence we were talking of this or that person ; nay, it
was frightful to live near a man who clearly discerned the
nicest limits by which nature had been pleased to modify and
distinguish oiu- various personalities.

Every one is apt to believe that what he possesses himself
may be commimicated to others ; and so Lavater was not
content to make use of this great gift for himself alone, but
insisted that it might be found and called forth in others, nay
that it might even be imparted to the great mass. The many
dull and malicious misinterpretations, the stupid jests in
abundance, and detracting railleries, this striking doctrine
gave rise to, may still be remembered by some men ; how-
ever, it must be 0"svncd that the worthy man himself was not
altogether without blame in the matter. For though a high
moral sense preserved the unity of his inner being, yet, with
his manifold labors, he was unable to attain to outward unity,
since he did not possess the slightest capacity for philo-
sophical method, nor for artistic talent.

He was neither Thinker nor Poet; indeed, not even an
orator, in the proper sense of the tei-m. Utterly unable to
take a comprehensive and methodical view, he nevertheless
formed an mierring jvidgment of individual cases and these he
noted down boldly side by side. His great work on Phy-
siognomy is a striking proof and illustration of this. In him-
self, the idea of the moral or of the sensual man might form a
whole ; but out of himself he could not represent this idea,
except practically by indi\'idual cases, in the same way as he
himself had apprehended them in life.

That very work sadly shows us how in the commonest
matter of experience so sharp-sighted a man, may go groping
about him. For after spending an immense sum and employ-
ing every artist and botcher living, he procured at last draw-
ings and engravings, which were so far without character,
that he is obliged in his work to say after each one that it is
more or less a failure, immeaning and worthless. True, by
this means, he sharpened his own judgment, and the judg-

ABUSE OF THE TEEM GENIUS. 141

ment of others ; but it also proves that his mental bias led
him rather to heap up cases of experience, than to draw from
them any clear and sober principle. For this reason he never
could come to results, though I often pressed him for them.
What in later hfe he confided as such to his friends, were
none to me ; for they consisted of nothing more than a col-
lection of certain lines and features, nay, warts and freckles,
with which he had seen certain moral, and frequently im-
moral, peculiarities associated. There Avere certainly some
I'emarks among them that surprised and riveted your atten-
tion ; but they formed no series, one thing followed another
accidentally, there was no gi-adual advance towards any
general deductions and no reference to any principles pre-
viously estabhshed. And indeed there was just as little of
litei-ary method or artistic feeling to be found in his other
writings, which invariably contained passionate and earnest
expositions of his thoughts and objects, and suppHed by the
most affecting and appropriate instances, what they coidd
not accomplish by the general conception.

The following reflections, as they refer to those cii'cum-
stances, may be aptly introduced here.

No one wilUngly concedes superiority to another, so long as
he can in any way deny it. Natural gifts of every kind can
the least be denied, and yet by the common mode of speaking
in those times, genius was ascribed to the poet alone. But
another world seemed all at once to rise up ; genius was
looked for in the physician, in the general, in the statesman,
and before long, in all men, who thought to make themselves
eminent either in theory or practice. Zimmerman, especially,
had advanced these claims. Lavater, by his views of Phy-
siognomy, was compelled to assume a more general distribu-
tion of mental gifts by nature; the word genius became a
universal symbol, and because men heard it uttered so often,
they thought that what was meant by it, was habitually at
hand. But then, since eveiy one felt himself justified in
demanding genius of others, he finally believed that he also
must possess it himself. The time was yet far distant when
it could be afiii-med, that genius is that power of man which
by its deeds and actions gives laws and rides. At this thne V
it was thought to manifest itself only, by overstepping exist-

142 TRUTH AXD POETEY ; FKOJt MY OWN LIFE.

^ ing laws, breaking established rules, and declaring itself above
all restraint. It was, therefore, an easy thing to be a genius,
and nothing was more natural than that extravagance both of
word and deed should provoke all orderly men to oppose
themselves to such a monster.

"SMien anybody rushed into the world on foot, without
exactly knoA^ing why or whither, it was called a pass of
genius; and when any one undertook an aimless and use-
less absurdity, it was a stroke of genius. Young men, of viva-
cious and true talents, too often lost themselves in the limit-
less ; and then older men of understanding, wanting perhaps
in talent and in soul, found a most malicious gratification in
exposing to the public gaze, theu: manifold and ludicrous
miscarriages.

For my part, in the development and the expression of my
own ideas, I perhaps experienced far more hindi-ance and
checks from the false co-operation and interference of the
like-minded, than by the opposition of those whose turn of
mind was directly contraiy to my own.

With a strange rapidity, words, epithets, and phrases,
which have once been cleverly employed to disparage the
highest intellectual gifts, spread by a sort of mechanical repe-
tition among the multitude, and in a short time they are to
be heard everywhere, even in common life, and in the mouths
of the most uneducated ; indeed before long they even creep
into dictionaries. In this way the word genius had suffered
so much from misrepresentation, that it was almost desired
to banish it entirely from the Gennan language.

And so the Germans, A^ith whom the common voice is more
apt to prevail than with other nations, would perhaps have
sacrificed the fairest flower of speech, the word which, though
apparently foreign, really belongs to every people, had not
the sense for what is highest and best in man, been happily
restored and solidly established by a profoimder philosophy.

In the preceding pages mention has been frequently made
of the youthful times of two men, whose memory will never
fade from the history of German literature and morals. At
this period, however, we came to know them as it were only
by the eiTors into which they were misled by a false maxim
which prevailed among theii- youthful contemporaries. No-

XAVATEE's sketch of the ST01.BEEGS. 143

thing, therefore, can be more proper than with due apprecia-
tion and respect to paint their natural form, their peculiar
indi^-iduality, just as it appeared at that time, and as their
immediate presence exhibited itself to the peneti-ating eye
of Lavater. Consequently, since the hea\y and expensive
volumes of the gi-eat work on Physiognomy are probably
accessible to a few only of our readers, I have no scruple in
inserting here the remarkable passages of tliat work, which
refer to both the Stolbergs, in the second part and its thirtieth
fragment, page 224 :

" The young men, whose portraits and profiles we have
here before us, are the first men who ever sat and stood to
me for physiognomical descrijjtion, as another would sit to a
painter for his portrait.

" I knew them before, the noble ones — and I made the
first attempt, in accordance with natui-e and with all my pre--
^•ious knowledge, to observe and to describe their character.

" Here is the description of the whole man. —

FIEST, OF THE TOTJNGEE.

" See the blooming youth of 25 ! the lightly-floating, buoy-
ant, elastic creature! it does not lie; it does not stand; it
does not lean; it does not fly; it floats or swims. Too full of
life, to rest; too supple to stand firm ; too heavy and too weak,
to fly.

" A floating thing, then, which does not touch the earth ! In
its whole contom- not a single slack line ; but on the other hand
no straight one, no tense one, none firmly arched or stiffly
curved ; no sharji entering angles, no rock-Hke projection of the
brow; no hardness; no stiffness; no defiant roughness; no
threatening insolence; no ii'on will — all is elastic, Avhming,
but nothing iron; no stedfast and searching profundity; no
slow reflection, or pnident thoughtfulness ; nowhere the rea-
soner Avith the scales held firmly in the one hand, and the
sword in the other ; and yet not the least formality in look or
judgment ! but still the most perfect straight-forwardness of
intellect, or rather the most immaculate sentiment of ti"uth !
Always the inward feeler, never the deep thinker ; never the
discoverer, the testing imfolder of truth so quickly seen, so
quickly known, so quickly loved, and quicklj' grasped. . . .
Perpetual soarer, a seer; idealizer; beautitier; — that gives a

^

144 TRVTH AXI> POETKY; TEOM my own LIFE.

shape and form to all his ideas! Ever the half-intoxicated
poet, seeing only what he will see; — not the sorrowfully lan-
guishing; not the sternly crvishiug; but the lofty, noble,
powerful! who with 'thirst for the sun' [Soiinendurst), hovers
to and fro in the regions of air, strives aloft, and again —
sinl<s not to earth! but throws himself headlong to earth,
bather in the floods of the ' Rock-stream' [Felsenstrom), and
cradles liimseK ' in the thunder of the echoing rocks around'
{Im Donner der hallenden Felsen tünher). His glance — not
the fire-glance of the eagle! His brow and nose — not the
courage of the lion! his breast — not the stedfastness of the
steed that neighs for battle ! In the whole, however, there is
much of the tearing activity of the elephant ....

" The projecting upper lip slightly di'awn up towards the
over-hanging nose, which is neither sharply cut, nor angiüar,
evinces, with such a closing of the mouth, much taste and
sensibiUty; Avhile the lower part of the face bespeaks much
sensuality, indolence, and thoughtlessness. The whole outline
of the profile shows openness, honesty, humanity, but at the
same time a liability to be led astray, and a high degree of
that good-hearted indiscretion, which injiu'cs no one but him-
self. The middle line of the mouth bespeaks in its repose,
a do^vru•ight, planless, weak, good-natui"ed disposition; when
in motion, a tender, finely-feeling, exceedingly susceptible,
benevolent, noble man. In the arch of the eyelids, and in
the glance of the eyes, there sits not Homer, but the deepest,
most thorough, and most quick feeling, and comprehension of
Homer; not the epic, but the lyric poet; genius, which fuses,
moulds, creates, glorifies, hovers, transforms all into a heroic
form — which deifies all. The half-closed eyelids, from such
an arch, indicate the keenly sensitive poet, rather than the
slowly laboring artist, who creates after a plan ; the whimsical
rather than the severe. The full foce of the youth is much
more taking and attractive, than the somewhat too loose, too
protracted half- face; the fore-part of the face in its slight-
est motion, tells of a highly sensitive, thoughtful, inventive,
mitaught, inward gooihiess, of a softly^ tremulous, WTong-
abhorring love of liberty — an eager vivacity. It cannot con-
ceal fi-om the commonest observer the slightest impression
which it receives for the moment, or adopts for ever. Every
object, which nearly concerns or interests him, drives the

xataier's sketch of the stolbergs. 145

"blood into the cheeks and nose; where honor is concerned,
the most maidenly blush of shame spreads like lightning over
the delicately sensitive skin.

" The complexion is not the pale one of all-creating, fU.l-con-
suming genius ; not the wildly glowing one of the contemp-
tuous destroyer; not the milk-white one of the blond; not
the olive one of the strong and hardy ; not the brownish one
of the slowly plodding peasant; but the white, the red, and
the violet, running one into another, and so expressively, and
so happily, blended together like the strength and weakness
of the whole character. The soul of the whole and of each
single feature is freedom, and elastic activity, which springs
forth easily and is as easuy repulsed. The whole fore-ßice and
the way the head is carried, promise magnanimity and upright
cheerfiilness. Incorniptible sensibility, delicacy of taste, purity
of mind, goodness and nobleness of soid, active power, a feel-
ing of strength and of weakness, shine out so transparently
through the whole face, that what were otherwise a lively
self-complacency dissolves itself into a noble modestj% and
most artlessly and unconstrainedly the natural pride and vanity
of youth melt with the loveliness of twilight into the easy
majesty of the whole man. The whitish hair, the length and
awkwardness of form, the softness and lightness of step, the
hesitating gait, the flatness of the breast, the fair rmfurrowed
brow, and various other features spread over the whole man a
certain feminine air, by which the inward quickness of action
is moderated, and eveiy intentional offence and every mean-
ness made for ever impossible to the heart ; but at the same
time clearly e\-incing that the spirited and fiery poet, with all
his unaffected thirst for freedom and for emancipation, is
neither destined to be a man of business, thoroughly persist-
ent, who steadily and resolutely carries out his plans, or to
become immortal in the bloody sti-ife. And now, in conclu-
sion, I remark, for the first time, that I have as yet said
nothing of the most striking ti-ait — the noble simplicity, free
from all afiectation ! Nothiag of his childlike openness of heart !
Nothing of the entire imconsciousness of his outward nobility !
Nothing of the inexpressible bonhommie with which he accepts
and bears reproaches or warnings, nay, even accusations and
wrongful charges.

" But who can find an end, who will undei-take to tell all
Vol. II. I,

146 TKUTH AXD poetky; from my own life.

that lie sees or feels in a good man, in whom there is so much
pure humanity?"

DESCKIPIION OF THE ELDER STOLBEKG.

" What I have said of the younger brother — how much of
it may be said also of the elder ! The principal thing I have
to remark is the followiug: —

" This figure and tliis character are more compact and less
diffuse than the former. There all was longer or flatter ; here
all is shorter, broader, more arched, and rounded; there all
was vague; here everything is more precise and sharply
defined. So the brow; so the nose; so the breast: more
compressed, more active, less difi'use, more of concen-
trated life and power! For the rest, the same amiableness
and bonhommie! Not that striking openness, rather more of
reserve, but in principle, or rather in deed, the same honora-
ble tone. The same invincible abhorrence of injustice and
baseness; the same irreconcilable hatred of all that is called
cimning and trickery; the same unyielding opposition to
tyranny and despotism; the same pui'e, incorruptible sensi-
biUty to all that is noble, and great, and good; the same
need of friendship and of freedom, the same sensitiveness and
noble thirst for glory ; the same catholicity of heart for aU
good, wise, sincere, and energetic men, renowned or unre-
nowned, known or misunderstood, — and the same light-hearted
inconsiderateness. No! not exactly the same. The face is
sharper, more contracted, firmer; has more inward, self-
developing capacity for business and practical counsels ; more
of enterprising spirit — which is showni especially by the
strongly prominent and fully rounded bones of the eye-
sockets. Not the all-blending, rich, pm'C, lofty poet's feeling
— not the ease and rapidity of the productive power which
marks the other — but yet he is, and that in profounder depths,
vivacious, upright, ardent. Not the airy genius of light float-
ing away in the morning red of heaven, and fashioning huge
shapes therein — but more of in ward power, though perhaps less
of expression ! more powerful and tenible — less of elegance
ai>d finish; though his pencil nevertheless wants neither
coloring nor enchantment. More wit and riotous humor;
di-oU satire; brow, nose, look — aU so downward, so over-
hanging—decidedly what it should be for original and all-

MY MEETING AGAIN WITH LILLI. 147

enliTening mt, wliich does not gather from without, but
brings forth from within. Above all in this character every
trait more prominent, more angular, more aggressive, more
storming! No passive dullness, no relaxation, except in the
sunken eyes, where, as well as in the brow and nose, pleasm-e
evidently sits. In all besides — and even ia this very brow,
this concentration of all — in this look indeed — there is an unmis-
takable expression of natural, imacquired greatness; strength,
impetuosity of manliness; constancy, simplicity, precision!"

After having in Darmstadt conceded to Merk the justice of
his opinions and allowed him to triumph, in his having predicted
my speedy separation from these gay companions, I found
myself again in Frankfort, weR received by every one,
including my father, although the latter could not conceal his
disappointment that I had not descended by the pass to Airolo,
and annoimced to him from Milan my arrival in Italy. All
this was expressed by his silence rather than his words; but
above aU he did not show the slightest sjTupathy with those
wild rocks, those lakes of mist, and dragons' nests.

At last, however, by an incidental remark, by no means
intended for a reproach, he gave me to understand how little
all such sights were worth : he who has not seen Naples, he
observed, has lived to no end.

On my return I did not, I could not, avoid seeing LiUi ; the
position we maintained towards each other was tender and
considerate. I was informed that they had fuUy convinced
her in my absence, that she must break off her intimacy with
me, and that this was the more necessary and indeed more
practicable, since by my jom-ney and voluntary absence, I had
given a sufficiently clear intimation of my ovrn intentions.
Nevertheless, the same localities in town and country, the same
friends, confidentially acquainted with all the past, could
scarcely be seen without emotion by either of us — still and
for ever lovers, although drawn apart in a mysterious way.
It was an accursed state, which in a certain sense resembled
Hades, or the meeting of the happy M-ith the vmhappy
dead.

There were moments when departed days seemed to revive,
but instantly vanished again, like ghosts.

Some kind people had told me in confidence, that Lilli,
l2

148 TETTTII AND POETRY; PEOJI MY OWN LIFE.

when all the oostacles to our union were laid before her, had
declared that for my love she was ready to renounce all pre-
sent ties and advantages, and to go with me to America.
America was then perhaps, still more than now, the Eldorado
of all who found themselves crossed in the wishes of the
moment.

But the very thing which shovdd have animated my hopes,
only depressed them the more. My handsome paternal house,
only a few hundred ste2)s from hers, offered certainly a more
tolerable and more attractive habitation than an uncertain and
remote locality beyond the ocean; still I do not deny, that in
her presence all hopes, all wishes sprang to life again, and
irresolution was stirring within me.

True, the injunctions of my sister were very peremptory and
precise ; not only had she, with all the shrewd penetration of
which she was mistress, explained the situation of things to
me, bvit she had also, with painfully cogent letters, harped
upon the same text still more powerfully. '• It were very
well," said she, " if you could not help it, then you would
have to put ixp with it ; such things one must suffer but not
choose.'' Some months passed away in this most miserable of
all conditions ; every circumstance had conspired against the
union ; in her alone I felt, I knew, lay the power which
could have overcome every difficulty.

Both the lovers, conscious of their position, avoided all soli-
tary interviews ; but, in company, they could not help meet-
ing in the usual formal way. It was now that the strongest
trial was to be gone through, as every noble and feeling soul
will acknowledge, when I have explained myself more fully.

It is generally allowed, that in a new acqviaintance, in the
formation of a new attachment, the lover gladly draws a veil
over the past. Growing affection troubles itself about no
antecedents, and as it springs up like genius with the rapidity
of lightning, it knows nothing either of past or future. It is
true, my closer intimacy with Lilli had begun by her teUing
me the story of her early youth : how, from a child up,
she had excited in many both a liking and devotion to herself,
especially in strangers visiting her father's gay and lively
house, and how she had found her pleasure in all this, though
it had been attended with no fui'ther consequences and had
lead to no permanent tie.

LILLl's OLD LOVERS. 149

True, lovers consider all that they have felt before only as
preparation for their present bliss, only as the foundation on
which the structure of their future life is to be reared. Past
attachments seem like spectres of the night, which glide
away before the break of day.

But what occurred ! The fair came on, and Avith it appeared
the whole swarm of those spectres in their reality; all the
mercantile friends of the eminent house came one by one. and
it was soon manifest that not a man among them was willing
or able wholly to give up a certain claim to the lovely
daughter. The younger ones, without being obtrusive, still
seemed to claim the rights of familiar friends ; the middle-
aged, with a certain obliging dignitj', like those who seek to
make themselves beloved, and who in all probabiHty might
come forM'ard with higher claims. There were fine men
among them, with the additional recommendation of a sub-
stantial fortune.

The older gentlemen, with their uncle s ways and manners,
were altogether intolerable ; they could not bridle their hands,
and in the midst of theii- disagreeable twaddle would demand
a kiss, for which the cheek was not refused. It was so natural
to her, gracefully to satisfy every one. The conversation, too,
excited many a painful remembrance. Allusion was constantly
made to pleasure parties by water and by land, to perils of all
kinds Avith their happy escapes, to balls and evening prome-
nades, to the amusement afforded by ridiculous wooers, and
to whatever coidd excite an uncomfortable jealousy in the
heart of an inconsolable lover, who had, as it were, foi a long
time drawn to himself the sum of so many years. But amid
all this crowd and gaiety, she did not push aside her fiiend,
and when she turned to him. she contrived, in a few words,
to express all the tenderness which seemed allowable to their
present position.

But let us turn from this torture, of which the memory even
is almost intolerable, to poesy, which afforded, at least, an
intellectual and heartfelt alleviation of my sufferings.

" Lillis Menagerie' belongs somewhere to this period; I
do not adduce the poem here, because it does not reveal the
softer sentiment, but seeks only, with genial earnestness, to
exaggerate the disagreeable, and by comical, and provoking
images, to change renunciation into despaii-.

150 TRUTH AND poetrt; feoji my o-\vn life.

'Dae following song expresses rather the sweeter side of that
misery, and on that account is here inserted :

Sweetest roses, ye are drooping.

By my love ye were not worn ;
Bloom for one, who past all hoping.

Feels his soul by sorrow torn.

Oh, the days still live in thought, love.
When to thee, my angel, bound;

I my garden early sought, love,

And for thee the young buds found.

All the flowers and fruits I bore thee,

And I cast them at thy feet;
As I proudly stood before thee,

Then my heart with hope would beat !

Sweetest roses, ye are drooping,

By my love ye were not worn ;
Bloom for one, who past all hoping,

Feels his soul by sorrow torn.

The opera of "JS'rif/'zn and Elvira''^ was suggested by the
pretty Little romaimt or ballad introduced by Goldsmith in his
" Vicar of Wakefield,'' which had given us so much pleasure
in oui' happiest days, when we never dreamed that a similar
fate awaited us.

I have already introduced some of the poetical productions
of this epoch, and I only %vish they had all been preserved.
A never failing excitement in the happy season of love,
heightened by the beginning of care, gave birth to songs,
which throughout expressed no overstrained emotion, but
always the sincere feeHng of the moment. From social songs
for festivals, down to the most trifling of presentation-verses
— all was living and real and what a refined company had
sympathized in; fij-st glad, then sorrowful, till finally there
was no height of bUss, no depth of woe, to which a strain was
not devoted.

All these internal feelings and outward doings, so far as
they were likely to vex and pain my father, were by my
mother's bustling pi-udence skilfully kept from him. Although
Hs hope of seeing me lead into his house, that first one (who

PLAN OF EGMONT. 151

had so fully realised his ideas of a daughter-in-law) had
died away, still this "state-lady," as he used to call her in
his confidential conversations with his wife, would never
suit him.

Nevertheless he let matters take theu- course, and diligently
occupied himself with his little Chancery. The young juristic
fi-iend, as well as the dexterous amanuensis, gained continually
more and more of influence under his firm. As the absentee
was now no longer missed there, they let me take my own
way, and sought to establish themselves fiiTuly upon a ground
on wliich I was not destined to thrive.

Fortunately my own tendencies corresponded with the
sentiments and wishes of my father. He had so great an
idea of my poetic talents, and felt so personal a pleasure in
the applause which my earhest efforts had obtained, that he
often talked to me on the subject of new and further attempts.
On the other hand, I did not venture to commmiicate to him
any of these social effusions and poems of passion.

As, in Götz von BerUchingen, I had in my own way mir- !
rored forth the image of an important epoch of the world, T
now again carefuUy looked round for another crisis in political
histoiy of similar interest. Accordingly the Revolt of the
Netherlands attracted my attention. In Götz, I had depicted
a man of pai'ts and energy, sinking under the delusion that,
in times of anarchy, ability and honesty of piu-pose must have
their weight and influence. The design of Egmont was to
shew that the most fii-mly established institutions cannot
maintain themselves against a powerful and shrewdly cal-
culating Despotism. I had talked so earnestly with my
father about what the piece ought to be, and what I wanted
to do, that it inspired him with an invincible desire to see
the plan which I had ah-eady worked out in my head, fairly
set down on paper, in order to its being printed and admired.
In earlier times, while I still hoped to gain Lilli's hand, I
had applied myself with the utmost diligence to the study
and practice of legal business, but now I sought to fill the
fearful gulf which separated me from her, with occupations
of more intellect and soul. I therefore set to work in earnest
with the composition of Egmont. Unlike the first Götz von
Berlichingen, however, it was not written in succession and
in order; but immediately after the fu'st introduction I went

U

//

152 iKUTH AND poetry; fkom my own life.

at once to the malu scenes without troubling myself about
the various connecting links. I made rapid progress, because
my father, knowing my fitful way of working, spurred me on
(literally and without exaggeration) day and night, and seemed
to believe that the plan, so easily conceived, might as easily
be executed.

TWENTIETH BOOK.

And sol got on rapidly with m.y '■'■ Egmont ;''' and while I
found in this some alleviation of my womided passion, the
society of a clever artist also helped me through many Aveari-
some hours. And thus, as had often before been the case, a
vague desii'e of practical improvement brought me a secret
peace of mind, at a time Avhen it could scarcely be hoped for.

John Melchior Keaus, who had been born at Frank-
fort, but educated in Paris, having just returned from a short
torn* to the north of Germany, paid me a visit, and I imme-
(Uately felt an impulse and a need to attach myself to him.
He was a cheerful meny fellow, whose Hght joyous disposition
had found its right sphere in Paris.

At that time Paris j^romised a pleasant welcome for Ger-
mans; Phixip Hackert was residing there in credit and
opulence; the true German style in which, both in oil and
water-colors, he faithfully excuted landscapes after nature,
met with great favor, as contrasted with the formal '•'man-
nerism'' into which the French had fallen. Wille, in high
esteem as a copperplate engraver, supported and made Ger-
man excellence more widely Icno^wn. Grimm, abeady an
artist of some influence, rejoiced to help his coimtrymen.
Pleasant excursions, in order to take oingiual sketches from
nature were constantly undertaken, in which much of un-
doubted excellence was either executed or designed.

Boucher and Watteau, both of them artists born, whose ly^
works, though fluttering in the style and spirit of the time,
were always highly respectable, were favorably inclined to
the new school, and even took an active part in their excur-
sions, though oijly for the sake of amusement and experiment.
Greuze, living quietly by himself in his family circle, and
fond of representing such domestic scenes, seemed delighted
with his own works, held an honored and easy pencil.

All these several styles our townsman Kraus was able to
take up and blend with his own particular talent ; he formed
liimsclf in school after school, and was skilful in his portrait-

154 TRUTH AST) POETKY; FKOM MY OWN XIFE.

like delineations of family and friendly gatherings; equally
happy was he in his landscape sketches, which cordially com-
mended themselves to the eye hy their clear outlines, mas-
sive shadows, and agi'eeable coloring. The inward sense was
satisfied by a certain naive truth, while the admii-er of artistic
skill was especially pleased with the tact by which he arranged
and grouped into a picture what he had copied singly fi'om
nature.

He was a most agreeable companion ; a cheei^fiü equani-
mity never failed him ; obliging without obsequiousness,
reserved Avithout pride, he was everywhere at home, every-
where beloved, the most active, and, at the same time, the
most manageable of all mortals. With such talents and of
such a disposition, he soon won the favor of the higher circles ;
but he was especially well received at the castle of the Baron
von Stein, at Nassau on the Lahn, whose accomplished and
lovely daughter he assisted in her artistic studies, and in
many ways enlivened the whole circle.

Upon the marriage of this excellent lady to the Count von
Werther, the newly wedded couple took the artist with them
to Thmingia, where the Count possessed a large estate, and
thus he got to Weimar. His acquaintance was immediately
sought, his talents were appreciated — and a wish expressed
that he would fix liis permanent abode there.

Obliging as he was to everybody, upon his return at this
time to Frankfort, he stimulated my love of art, which had been
contented Avith merely collecting, and to making practical
essays. The neighboiu'hood of the artist is indispensable to
the Dilettante, for the latter sees all that is wanting in him-
self suppHed by the former ; the wishes of the amateiu* are
fulfilled in the artist.

By a certain natural talent, assisted by practice, I suc-
ceeded pretty well in an outline, and I could give the shape of
all that I saw before me in nature ; but I wanted the jDcciuiar
plastic power, the skilful industry, which lends a body to the
outline by weU-graduated light and shade. My copies were
rather remote suggestions of the real fonn, and my figures
like those light airy beings in Dante's Purgatory^ which,
casting no shadow themselves, fled afiiüghted at the shadows
of actual bodies.

Lavater's fishing for physiognomical treasures — for so we

KEArS THE AETIST. 155

may well designate the importunate ui-gency with which he
called upon all men, not only to observe physiognomies, but
also practicaUv to make, be it artistic or most bungling
attempts at copying faces, led me into the habit of taking
the portraits of all my friends on grey paper, with black and
white chalk. The likeness was not to be mistaken, but it
required the hand of my artistic friend to make them stand
out from the dark back-gi'oimd.

In turning oyer andlooking thi'ough the rich portfolio of draw-
ings which the good Kraus had taken during his trayels.we had
most pleasant talk together when he came to the sketches of
scenes and persons in and about "Weimar. On such paintings I,
too, was glad to dwell, and you may imagine that it must haye
been flattering to the young man, to see in so many pictures
only the text which was to lead to a circumstantially repeated
exclamation : they would be glad to see him there. With
much grace he would imitate the different persons whose por-
traits he had taken and impersonate the greetings and invi-
tations he had received. One very successful oil-painting
represented the chapel-master, Wolf, at the piano, with his
wrfe behind him preparing to sing : and this gave the artist
opportimity to assure me in earnest terms, of the warm wel-
come this worthy pair woidd give me. Among his sketches
were several of the wood and mountain seenerj' around Bur-
gel. Here an honest forester, more perhaps to please his
pretty daughters than himself, had by means of bridges, rail-
ings, and mossy paths, opened pleasant and sociable walks
through the rough masses of rocks, thickets, and plantations.
In one of these beautiiul promenades he had painted the fair
damsels in white dresses, and not without theii* attendant
cavaliers. In one of these you immediately recognized Ber-
tuch, whose serious designs upon the oldest daughter were
openly avowed : and Kraus was not offended if you ventured
to refer a second youth to himself, and guessed his growing
attachment to the sister.

Beetuch, as the pupil of Wieland, had so distinguished
himself in science and in business, that already appointed
private secretary of the Duke, he had the best possible pro-
spects before him. From him we passed to Wieland anc>
talked at length of his rectitude, and cheerfrüness, and kindly
disposition ; his fine literary and poetical designs were dwelt

156 TRUTH AXD POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

upon, and allusions were made to tlie influence of; the Mercur
throughout Germany; many other names of literary, political,
or social distinction were also mentioned, and among them.
Musicus, Kirms, Bereudis, and Ludecus. Of women, the
wife of Wolf, and a widow Kotzebue, with a lovely daughter
and a bright boy, were, among many others, characterized
and extolled. Everything seemed to point to a fresh and
active life of literature and art.

And so, by degrees, was exliibited all the various elements
upon which the young Duke was, on his return, to work.
His mother and guardian had prepared this state of things,
while, as regarded the introduction of more important
measures, all that, in accordance with the duty of such pro-
visional governments, was left to the judgment and decision
of the future sovereign. The sad ruin caused by the bm-ning
of the palace was already looked upon as furnishing occasion
for new improvements. The mines at Ilmenau, which had
stopped working, but which, it was asserted, might again be
made profitable by going to the great expense of repairing
the deep shaft; — the academy at Jena, which was somewhat
behind the spirit of the age, and was consequently threatened
with the loss of some of its most able teachers, — and many
other matters, roused a noble common interest. Ah-eady
were looks cast around for peisons, who, in the upward
struggle of Germany, might be qualified to further such
various designs for good, and the prospect seemed as fresh as
the vivacity and energy of youth could desire. And if it
seemed sad to bring a young princess not to a home, of a
suitable princely dignity, but to a very ordinary dwelling built
for quite a different object; still such beautifully situated and
well contrived country-houses as Etteuburg, Belvedere, and
other delightfid pleasure-seats, gave eiijoyment for the pre-
sent, and also a hope that the life of nature thus rendered
necessary, might lead to profitable and agreeable occupa-
tions.

In the course of this biography, we have circumstantially
exhibited the child, the boy, the youth, seeking by different
ways to approach to the Suprasensible first, looking with
strong inclination to a religion of nature ; then, clinging with
love to a positive one ; and, finally, concentrating himself in
the trial of his own powers, and joyfully giving himself iip to

THE DF.MONIC EGMONT. 157

the general faith. Whilst he wandered to and fro, space
which lay intermediate between the sensible and suprasen-
sible regions, seeking and looking about him, much came in
his way which did not appear to belong to either, and he
seemed to see, more and more distinctly, that it is better to
avoid all thought of the immense and incomprehensible.

He thought he could detect in nature — both animate and
inanimate, with soid or without soul — something which mani-
fests itself only in contradictions, and which, therefore, could ;
not be comprehended under any idea, still less under one
word. It was not godlike, for it seemed imreasonable ; not
himian, for it had no understanding ; nor devilish, for it was
beneficent; nor angelic, for it often betrayed a malicious
pleasure. It resembled chance, for it evolved no con-
sequences; it was like ProAidence, for it hinted at connexion.
All that limits us it seemed to penetrate ; it seemed to sport
at vdW with the necessaiy elements of our existence ; it con-
tracted time and expanded space. In the impossible alone
did it appear to find pleasure, while it rejected the possible
with contempt.

To this principle, which seemed to come in between all
other principles to separate them, and yet to link them
together, I gave the name of Demonic, after the example of i>^
the ancients and of those who, at any rate, had perceptions
of the same kind. I sought to screen myself from this fear-
ful principle, by taking refuge, according to my usual habits,
in an imaginary creation.

Among the parts of history which I had particularly studied
with some care, were the events which have made the united
Netherlands so famous. I had diligently examined the origi-
nal som'ces, and had endeavoiired, as far as possible, to get
my facts at first hand, and to bring the whole period vi\ddly
before my mind"s eye. The situations it presented appeared
to me to be in the highest degree dramatic, while, for a prin-
cipal figure, around whom the others might be grouped with
the happiest effect, there was Count Egmont, whose greatness
a.s a man and a hero was most captivating.

But for my purpose it was necessary to convert him into a
character marked by such peculiarities as would grace a j^outh
better than a man in years, and an unmarried man better than
the father of a family ; and one independent, rather than one,

15S iKfTH AXD poetey; fkom my own life.

wlio, however freely disposed, is neyertlieless restrained by
the various relations of life.

Having thus, in my conception of Egmonfs character,
made him youthful, and set him fi'ee from all domestic
restraints, I ascribed to him imlimited enjojoncnt of life and
its pleasures, boundless self-reliance, a gift of drawing all men
to himself, and consequently also of winning the favor of the
people, and which, while it iuspii-ed a princess ■ndth a silent,
and a young child of nature with an avowed passion, won for
him the sympathy of a shi-ewd statesman, and even the loving
admiration of the son of his great adversary.

The personal coui-age which distingidshes the hero is the
foundation upon which his whole character rests, the groimd
and soil from which it sprimg. He knows no danger, and
willingly is bund to the greatest when it is close at hand.
Surrounded by enemies, we may, at any rate, cut our way
through them ; the meshes of state policy are harder to break
thi-ough. The Demonical element, which is in play on both
sides, and in conflict with which the lovely falls while
the hated triumphs ; and, above all, the prospect that out of
this conflict will spring a third element, which wül answer to
the wishes of all men ; — this perhaps is what has gained for
the piece (not, indeed, immediately on its first appeai-ance,
but later and at the right time), the favor which it now
enjoys. Here, therefore, for the sake of many beloved read-
ers, I will anticipate myself, and as I know not whether I
shall soon have another opportunity, wül express a conviction
which, however, I did not foim till a considerable period
subsequent to that of which I am now "v^Titing.

Although this Demonical element can manifest itself in all
corporeal and incorporeal things, and even expresses itseli
most distinctly in animals, yet, with man, especially does it
stand in a most wonderfid connexion, fonning in him a power
which, if it be not opposed to the moral order of the world,
nevertheless does often so cross it that one may be regarded
as the warp, and the other as the woof.

For the phenomena which it gives rise to there are innume-
rable names : for all philosophies and religions have sought
in prose and poetry to solve this enigma and to read once for
all the riddle which, nevertheless, remains still umiddled by
them.

THE DEMONIC INFLTTENCE IN XIFE. 159

But the most fearful manifestation of the Demonical, is when
it is seen predominating in some individual character. During
my life I have obseiTcd several instances of this, either
more closely or remotely. Such persons are not always the
most eminent men, either morally or intellectually, and it is
seldom that they recommend themselves to our aifections by
goodness of heart ; a ti-emendous energy seems to be seated
in them, and they exercise a wonderful power over all crea-
tures, and even over the elements ; and, indeed, who shall say
how much farther such influence may extend ? All the moral
powers combined are of no avail against them ; in vain does the
more enlightened portion of mankind attempt to throw sus-
picion upon them as deceived if not deceivers — the mass is
still drawn on by them. Seldom if ever do the gi-eat men of
an age find their equals among theii- cotemporaries, and they
are to be overcome by nothing but by the universe itself; and
it is from observation of this fact that the strange, but most
striking, proverb must have risen: Nemo contra Deinn nisi
Dens ipse.

From these lofty reflections I retm-n to the littleness of my
o-R-n life, for which strange events, clothed at least with a
demonical appearance, were in store. From the summit of
Mont Gotthard, I had turned my back upon Italy, and
returned home, because I could not make up my mind to go
to a distance from LilH. An affection, which is grounded on
the hope of possessing for life one dearly beloved, in an inti-
mate and cordial union, does not die awav all at once ; on the
contrary, it is nom'ished by a consideration of the reasonable
desires and honest hopes we are conscious of cherishing.

It lies in the nature of the thing, that in such cases the
maiden should be consoled before the youth. To these beau-
tiful children, as descendants of Pandora, is granted the
enviable gift to charm, attract, and (more through nature and
of half purpose, than through design or of malice) to gather
admirers ai'ound them; and thus, like the Magician's Appren-
tice, they are often in danger of being frightened by the crowd
of theii- adorers. And then at last a choice must be made
from among them aU; one must be exclusively preferred;
one must lead home the bride.

And how often does accident determine the choice and sway
the mind of her who has to make the selection ! I had re-

160 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

nouncecl Lilli from conviction, but love made me suspect my
o^^'n reason. Lilli had taken leave of me with the same feel-
ings, an"d I had set out on a beautiful tour in order to distract
my mind, but it had produced the opposite effect.

As long as I was absent I believed in the separation, but
did not believe in the renunciation. Recollections, hopes,
and wishes, all had free play. Now I came back, and as the
re-imion of those whose happy love is imopposed, is a heaven,
so the meeting again of two lovers who are kept apart by cold
calculations of reason, is an intolerable purgatory, a forecourt
of hell. When I again entered the circle in which Lilli still
moved, all the dissonances which tended to oppose our union,
seemed to have gained double force; when I stood once more
before her, the conviction that she was lost to me, fell heavy
upon my heart.

Accordingly I resolved at once on flight, and imder this
impression there was nothing which I desired more, than that
the young ducal pair of Weimar should come from Carlsruhe
to Frankfort, in order that, complying with old and new invi-
tations, I might follow them to Weimar. Their Highnesses
had always maintained towards me a gracious and confidential
manner, ibr which I on my part returned the warmest thanks.
My attachment to the Duke from the first moment I saw him ;
my respect for the princess whom by reputation I had so long
known; a desire to render personally some friendly service to
Wieland, whose conduct had been so liberal, and to atone
upon the spot for my half-wilful, half-unintentional impro-
prieties, were motives enough to induce and even to force the
assent of a youth, who now had no attachment to detain him.
Moreover, from Lilli I must fly, whether to the South, where
my Father's enthusiasm was daily depicting to me a most
glorious heaven of Art and Nature, or to the North, whither
so distinguished a circle of eminent men invited me.

The young princely pair now reached Frankfort on their
way home. The Duke of Meiningen' s suite was there at the
same time, and by him, as well as by the Privy Counsellor
von Diirkheim, who accompanied the young prince, I was
received in the most friendly manner possible. But now, to
keep up the fashion of my youth, a strange incident was not
wanting : a little mismiderstanding arose to throw me into an
incredible but rather laughable perplexity.

A riTTLE PEEPLEXITT. 161

Tlieir Highnesses of Weimar and Meiningen were living in
the same hotel. I received one day an invitation to dinner.
My mind was so preoccupied with the Court of Weimar, that
I did not think it necessary more particularly to inform myself,
especially as I had not the presumption to imagine that any
notice would be taken of me by the Duke of Meiningen.
Accordingly I go full dressed to the " Roman Emperors," and
making my way to the apartments of the Weimar family
find them empty; being informed that the Duke and his
suite are with his Highness of Mciningen, I betake myseK
thither, and am kindly received. Supposing that this is only
a morning visit, or that perhaps the two Dukes are to dine
together, I await the issue. Suddenly, however, the Weimar
suite sets itself in motion, and I of course follow; but instead
of returning to their own apartments they go straight down
stairs and into their chariots, and I am left alone in the
street.

Now, instead of inquiring into the matter, and adroitly
and prudently seeking some solution of it, I, with my usual
precipitancy, went straight home, where I found my parents
at supper. My father shook his head, while my mother
made every possible excuse for me. In the evening she told
me in confidence, that after I had left the table, my father
had said, that he wondered very much how I, generally acute
enough, could not see that in that quarter they only wished to
make a fool of me and to laugh at me. But this did not move
me : for meanwhile I had met with Herr von Dürkheim, who
in his mild way brought me to book with smidry graceful
and humorous reproaches. I was now awakened from my
dream, and had an opportunity to express my most sincere
thanks for the favor intended me contrary to my hope and
expectation, and to ask forgiveness for my blimder.

After I had on good grounds determined to accept their
friendly ofiers, the following arrangement was made. A
gentleman of the Duke's suite who had stayed behind in Carls-
ruhe, to wait for a landau which was builduig in Strasburg,
was to be by a certain day in Frankfort, and I was to hold
myself in readiness to set off directly with him for Weimar.
The hearty and gracious farewell with which the young
sovereigns took their leave of me, the friendly behaviour of the
coui-tlcrs, made me look forwai'd most anxiously to this
Vol. II. M

162 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN" LIFE.

ioumev, for which the road seemed so pleasantly to smoothe
"itself. '

But here, too, accidents came in to complicate so simple an
arrangement, which through my passionate impatience became
still more confused, and was almost quite frustrated. Having
announced tlie day of my departure, I had taken leave of eveiy-
body, and after packing up in haste my chattels, not forget-
ting mv unprinted manuscripts, I waited anxiously for the
hour which was to bring the aforesaid friend in the new
landau, and to carry me into a new countiy, and into new
circumstances. The hour passed, and the day also: and
since, to avoid a second leave-taking and the being overrun
with visits, 1 had given out that I was to depart early in the
morning, I was obliged to keep close to the house, and to
my own room, and had thus placed myself in a peculiar
situation.

But since solitude and a narrow space were always favora-
ble to me. and I was now compelled to find some employment
for these hours, I set to work on my " Egmont," and brought
it almost to a close. I read over what I wrote to my father,
who had acquired a peculiar interest in this piece, and wished
nothing more than to see it finished and in print, since he
hoped that it would add to his son's reputation. He needed
something of this sort to keep him quiet, and to make him
contented ; for he was inclined to make very grave comments
on the non-an'ival of the carriage. He maintained that the
whole affair was a mere fiction, would not believe in any new
landau, and pronounced the gentleman who stayed behind to
be a phantom of the air. It was, however, only indirectly
that he gave me to imderstand all this ; but he only tormented
himself and my mother the more openly; insisting that the
whole thing was a mere piece of court pleasantly, which they
had practised upon me in consequence of my former escapades,
and in order to sicken and to shame me, had put upon me a
disgraceful mockery instead of the expected honor.

As to myself, I held fast to my first faith, and congratulated
myself upon these solitary hours, disturbed by neither friends
nor strangers, nor by any sort of social distraction. I there-
fore wrote on -s-igorously at " Egmont," though not without
inward mortification. And this frame of mind perhaps suited
well with the piece itself, which, agitated by so many pas-

A DISAPPOIN^TMENT. 163

sions, could not very well liave been written by one entirely
passionless.

Thus passed eight days, and I know not how many more,
when such perfect imprisonment began to prove irksome.
Accustomed for many years to live under the open sky, and
to enter into society on the most frank and familiar terms,
in the neighbourhood too of one dearly beloved, from whom
indeed I had resolved to part, bvit from whom, so long as I
was within the circle of her attraction, I foimd it difficidt to
absent myself — all this begun to make me so uneasy, that
there was danger lest the interest of my tragedy should sidfer,
and my inventive powers be suspended through my impa-
tience. Already for several evenings I had found it impos-
sible to remain at home. Disgidsed in a large mantle, I crept
round the city, passing the houses of my friends and aquaint-
ances, and not forbearing to walk up to Lilli's window. Her
bouse was a corner one, and the room she usually spent her
evenings in was on the ground floor; the green shades were
down, but I could easily remark that the lights stood in their
usual places. Soon I heard her singing at the piano; it was
the song. Ah! why resistless dost thou press me? which I had
written for her hardly a year before. She seemed to me to
sing with more expression than ever ; I could make out every
word distinctly; for I had placed my ear as close as the
convex lattice would permit. After she had sung it through,
I saw by the shadow which fell vipon the curtain that she got
up and walked backwards and forwards, but I sought in vain
to catch the outline of her lovely person through the thick
curtains. Nothing but the firm resolve to tear myself away,
and not to afflict her with my presence, but actually to
renoimce her, and the thought of the strange impression
which would be made by my re- appearance, could have
determined me to leave so dear a neighboui-hood.

Several more days passed away, and my father's suggestion
seemed daily to become more probable, since not even a letter
arrived from Carlsruhe to explain the reasons of the delay.
I was unable to go on with my poetic labors, and now, in the
mieasiness with which I was internally distracted, my father
had the game to himself. He represented to me, that it was
now too late to change matters, that my trunk was packed,
and he woidd give me money and credit to go to Italy ; but I

M 2

164 TKITTH AXD POETET ; FKOM MT OATN LIFE.

must decide quickly. In such a weighty affair, I natiu^ally
doubted and hesitated. Finally, however, I agreed that if,
by a certain hour, neither carriage nor message came, I would
set off, directing my steps first of aU to Heidelberg and from
there over the Alps, not, however, going through Switzerland
again, but rather taking the route through the Orisons, or the
Tyrol.

Strange things indeed must happen, when a planless youth
who of himself is so easily misled, is also driven into a false
step by a passionate error of age. But so it is both with
youth and the M-hole of life. It is not tiU the campaign is
over that we Icam to see through its tactics. In the ordinary
course of things such an accident were easy enough to be
explained ; but Ave are always too ready to conspire with error
against what is naturally probable, just as we shuffle the cartls
before we deal them round, in order that chance may not be
deprived of its full share in the game. It is precisely thus
that the element arises in and upon which the Demonical so loves
to work ; and it even sports with us the more fearfully, the
clearer are the inldings we have of its approach.

The last day for my waiting had arrived, and the next
morning was fixed for my setting out on my travels ; and now
I felt extremely anxious to see my friend Passavant again,
who had just returned from Switzerland, and who would really
have had cause to be offended if, by keeping my plans entirely
to myself I had violated the intimate confidence which sub-
sisted between us. I therefore sent him an anonymous note,
requesting a meeting by night at a certain spot, Avhere I was
the first to airive enveloped in my mantle ; but he was not
long after me, and if he wondered at the appointment, he must
have been still more surprised to meet the person he did. His
joy, however, was equal to the astonishment; conversation
and counsel were not to be thought of, he could only wish
me well through my Italian jom-ney, and so we parted. The
next day I saw myself by good time advancing along the
mountain road.

I had several reasons for going to Heidelberg ; one was
Tcry sensible and prudent, for I had heard that my missing
"VVeimar friend must passthroxigh Heidelberg from Carlsruhe;
and so, when we reached the post-house, I left a note which,
■was to be handed to a cavalier who should pass through ia

HEIDELBERG MADEMOISELLE DELF. 165

the carriage described ; the second reason was one of passion,
and had reference to my late attachment to Lilli. In short,
Mademoiselle Delf, who had been the confidante of our love,
and indeed the mediator with om- respective parents for their
approval of our marriage, lived there ; and I prized it as the
greatest happiness to be able, before I left Germany, to talk
over those happy times with a worthy, patient, and indulgent
friend.

I was well received, and introduced into many famiKes ;
among others, the family of the high warden of the forests, Von

\V , particularly pleased me. The parents were dignified

and easy in their manners, and one of the daughters resembled
Frederica. It was just the time of -vintage, the weather beau-
tiful, and all my Alsacian feelings revived in the beautifiü
valley of the Rhine. At this time, however, my experience,
both of myself and others seemed very strange ; it Avas
as yet quite vague and undigested in my mind, no deli-
berate judgment upon life had shaped itself before me, and
whatever sense of the infinite had been awakened within me
served only to confuse and perplex me the more. In society,
nevertheless, I was as agreeable and entertaining as ever, and
possibly even still more so. Here, under this free air of
heaven, among joyous men, I sought again the old sports
which never lose their novelty and charm for youth. "With an
earlier and not yet extinguished love in my heart, I excited
sympathy without seeking it, even though it sought no utter-
ance of itself, and thus I soon became at home in this circle,
and indeed necessary to it, and I forgot that I had resolved,
after talking away a couple of evenings, to continue my
journey.

Mademoiselle Delf was one ofthose persons who, without ex-
actly intriguing, always like to have some business m hand, and
to keep others employed, and to carry through some object or
other. She had conceived a sincere friendship for me ; and
prevailed the more easily on me to prolong my visit as I lived
in her house, where she suggested all manner of inducements
for my stay, and raised all manner of obstacles to my journey.
When, however, I wanted to turn the conversation to Lilli,
she was not so well pleased or so sympathizing as I had hoped.
On the contrary, she said that, under the circumstances,
nothing could be wiser than our resolution to pai't, and main-

166 TRUTH AXD POETE.T; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

tained that one must submit to what is unavoidable, banish
the impossible from the mind, and look around for some new
object of interest in life. Full of plans as she always was, she
had not intended to leave this matter to accident, but had
already formed a project for my future conduct, from which I
clearly saw that her recent in%-itation to Heidelberg had not
been so disinterested as it soimded.

She reminded me that the Electoral Prince, Charles Theo-
dore, who had done so much for the arts and sciences, resided
still at Manheim, and that as the court was Roman Cathohc
while the country was Protestant the latter party was extremely
anxious to strengthen itself by enlisting the services of able
and hopeful men. I must now go, in God"s name, to Italy,
and there mature my views of Art ; meanwhile they would
work for me. It would, on my return, soon be seen whether

the budding affection of Fräulein von W had expanded

or had been nipped, and whether it would be politic, through
an alliance -witla a respectable family, to estabHsh myself and
my fortunes in a new home.

All these suggestions I did not, to be sure, reject ; but my
planless nature could not wholly harmonize with the scheming
spirit of my friend ; I was gi-atified, however, with the kind
intentions of the moment, while Lilli's image floated before
me. waking and dreaming, and mingled with everj^thing else
which afforded me pleasure or distraction. But now I sum-
moned before my soul the serious import of my great travel-
ling plan, and 1 resolved to set myself free, gently and with
propriety, and in a few days to make knowTi to her my deter-
mination of taking leave of her, and to resume my route.

One night Mademoiselle DeLf had gone on until late imfold-
ing to me her plans, and aU that certain parties were disposed
to do for me, and I could not but feel grateful for such sen-
timents, although the scheme of strengthening a certain circle,
through me and my possible influence at court, was manifest
enough. It was about one o'clock when we separated. I
soon fell into a sound sleep, but before very long I was
awakened by the horn of a postilion who was stopping and
blowing it before the house. Very soon Mademoiselle Delf
appeared with a light, and a letter in her hands, and coming
up to my bed-side, she exclaimed, " Here's the letter ; read
and teU me what it says. Surely it comes from the Weimar

DEPAETTJKE FOE -WEIJIAK. 1C7

people. If it is an invitation do not follow it, but call to
mind our conversation." I asked her to give me a light and
leave me for a quarter of an hour to myself. She went away
very reluctantly. I remained thinking for some time without
opening the letter. The express then has come from Frank-
fort, I know both the seal and hand ; the friend then has
arrived there ; he is still true to his invitation, and our o^vn
want of faith and incredulity had made us act prematm-ely.
Why could one not wait, in a quiet civilized place, for a man
who had been announced distinctly, but whose arrival might
be delayed by so many accidents r The scales feU from my
eyes. All the kindness, the graciousness, the confidence of
the past came up livingly before me. and I was almost ashamed
of the strange wilful step I had taken. T opened the letter,
and foimd all that had happened explained natm-ally enough.
My missing guide had waited for the new laudau which was
to come from Strasburg, day after day. hour after hour, as we
had waited for him ; then for the sake of some business he
had gone round by way of Manhciin to Frankfort, and to his
dismay had not found me there. He sent the hasty letter by
express, proposing that now the mistake was explained I
should instantly return, and save him the shame of going to
Weimar M'ithout me.

Much as my imderstanding and my feeling inclined me to
this side, there was stul no lack of weighty arguments in
favour of my new route. My father had laid out for me a fine
plan of travel, and had given me a little library, which might
prepare me for the scenes I was to \-isit. and also guide me
on the spot. In my leisure hours I had had no othf^r enter-
tainment than to reflect on it, and. indeed, during my last
short journey I had thought of nothing else in the coach.
Those glorious objects which, from my youth up, I had become
acquainted wäth, histories and all sorts of tales, gathered before
my soul, and nothing seemed to me so desirable as to visit
them, while I was parting from Lilli for ever.

As these thoughts passed through my mind I had dressed
myself and was walking up and down my chamber. My
anxious hostess entered. " What am I to hope?"' she cried.
" Dearest madam," I answered ; " say no more on the subject;
I have made up my mind to retui-n ; the grounds of that con-
clusion I have well weighed, and to repeat them to you would

168 TRUTH AND POETRY; TB.OM MY OWN LIFE.

be wasting time. A resolution must be taken sooner or later,
and who should take it but the person whom it most
concerns?"

I was moved, and so was she ; and we had an excited
scene, which I cut short by ordering my servant to engage a
post-coach. In vain I begged my hostess to calm herself, and
to turn the mock-departure which I took of the company the
evening before into a real one ; to consider that it was only a
temporary visit, a postponement for a short time ; that my
Italian journey was not given up, and my retvu-n that way was
not precluded. She would listen to nothing, and she disquieted
her friend, abeady deeply excited, still more. The coach was
at the door ; everything was packed, and the postilion gave
the usual signs of impatience ; I tore myself away ; she would
not let me go, and with so much art brought up all the argu-
ments of the present, that finally, impassioned and inspii'ed,
I shouted out the words of Egmont :

Child ! child ! no more ! The coursers of time, lashed, as it
svere, by invisible spirits, hvirry on the light car of our destiny,
and all that we can do is in cool self-possession to hold the
reins with a firm hand, and to guide the wheels, now to the
left, now to the right, avoiding a stone here, or a precipice
there. ^Vhither it is hurrj-ing who can tell? and who,
indeed, can remember the point from which it started ?

END OF THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

LETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND.

171

LETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND.

"When, a few years ago, the copies of the following letters
were first made kno'mi to us, it was asserted that they had
been found among Werther"s papers, and it was pretended
that before his acquaintance mth Charlotte, he had been in
Switzerland. We have never seen the originals : however we
would not on any accoimt anticipate the judgment and feel-
ings of om- readers ; for whatever may be theii' true history,
it is impossible to read them without sjTnpathy.

Pakt the Fiest.

How do all my descriptions disgust me, when I read them
over. Nothing but yom- advice, your command, your in-
junction coidd have induced me to attempt anything of the
kind. How many descriptions, too, of these scenes had I not
read before I saw them. Did these, then, afford me an
image of them. — or at best but a mere vague notion: In
vain did my imagination attempt to bring the objects before
it; in vain did my mind try to think upon them. Here I
now stand contemplating these wonders, and what are my
feelings in the midst of them ? I can think of nothing — I can
feel nothing, — and how -willingly would I both think and
feel. The glorious scene before me excites my soul to its
inmost depths, and impels me to be doing; and yet what can
I do — what do I ? I set myself do\vn and scribble and
describe! — Away with you, ye descriptions — delude my friend
— make him believe that I am doing something — that he sees
and reads somethiniic.

Were, then, these SAdtzers free? Free, these opulent
biirghers in their little pent-up towns — free, those po.u- devils
on thefr rocks and crags ? What is it that man cannot be
made to believe, especially when he cherishes in his heart the
memory of some old tale of marvel ? Once, forsooth, they did
break a tp-anfs yoke, and might for the moment fancy them-
selves free; but out of the carcase of the single oppressor the

172 XETXERS FROM SWITZEKLAND.

t^oocl sun, by a strange new birth, has hatched a swarm of
petty t}Tants. And so now they are ever tellinp; that old tale
of marvel: one hears it till one is sick of it. They formerly
made themselves free, and have ever since remained free!
and now they sit behind their M'alls, hugging themselves with
their customs and laws — their philandering and philistering.
And there, too, on the rocks, it is surely fine to talk of liberty,
when for six months of the year they, like the marmot,
are bound hand and foot by the snow.

Alas! how wTetched must any work of man look, in
the midst of this great aud glorious Nature, but espe-
cially such sorry, poverty-stricken works as these black and
dirty little towns — such mean heaps of stones and rubbish !
Large rubble and other stones on the roofs too, that the
miserable thatch may not be carried off from the top of them,
— and then the filth, the dung, and the gaping idiots ! When
here you meet with man and the wretched work of his hands,
vou are glad to fly away immediately from both.

That there are in man very many intellectual capacities
Avliich in this life he is unable to develope, which therefore
point to a better future, and to a more harmonious state of
existence : on this point we are both agi'eed. But fui'ther
than this I cannot give up that other fancy of mine, even
though on account of it you may again call me, as you have
so often done already, a mere enthusiast. For my part, I do
think that man feels conscious also of corporeal qualities, of
whose mature expansion he can have no hope in this life.
This most assuredly is the case with '"''ßying.'" How strongly at
one time used the clouds, as they drove along the blue sky, to
tempt me to travel with them to foreign lands ! and now in
what danger do I stand, lest they should carry me away with
them from the mountain peak as they sweep violently by.
"V\Tiat desire do I not feel to throw myself into the boundless
regions of the air — to poise over the terrific abyss, or to
alight on some otherwise inaccessible rock. With what
a longing do I draw deeper and deeper breath, when, in
the dark blue depth below, the eagle soars over rocks and
forests, or in company, and in sweet concord with his mate,
wheels in wide circles round the epie to wliich he has

FANCIES AND PEELINGS. 173

entrusted his young. Must I then never do more than creep
up to the summits? Must I always go on clinging to the
highest locks, as well as to the lowest plain; and when I
have at last, with much toil, reached the desired eminence,
must I still anxiously grasp at every holding place, shudder at
tlie thought of return, and tremble at the chance of a fall.

With what wonderful properties are we not born, — what
vague aspirations rise within us ! How rarely do imagina-
tion and our bodily powers work in opposition ! Peculiarities
of my early boyhood again recur. While I am walking, and
have a long road before me, my arms go dangling by my
side, I often make a grasp, as if I would seize a javelin, and
hurl it I know not at whom, or what; and then I fancy au
arrow is shot at me which pierces me to the heart ; I strike
my hand upon my breast, and feel an inexpressible sweetness ;
and then after this I soon revert to my natural state. Whence
comes this strange phenomenon, — what is the meaning of it ?
and why does it invariably recur under the same figures, in
the same bodily movement, and with the same sensation ?

I am repeatedly told that the people who have met me ou
my journey are little satisfied with me. I can readily be-
lieve it, for neither has any one of them contributed to my
satisfaction. I cannot tell how it comes to pass, that society
oppresses me ; that the forms of politeness are disagreeable
to me — that what people talk about does not interest me, —
that all that they show to me is either quite indifferent, or
else produces quite an opposite impression to what they
expect. When I am sho\\Ti a di-awing or painting of anv
beautiful spot, immediately a feeling of disquiet arises withiii
me which is utterly inexpressible. My toes within my shoes
begin to bend, as if they would clutch the groimd — a cramp-
like motion runs through my fingers. I bite my lips, and I
hasten to leave the company I am in, and throw myself do^A^^
in the presence of the majesty of nature on the first seat how-
ever inconvenient. I try to take in the scene before me
with my eye — to seize all its beauties, and on the spot I love to
cover a whole sheet with scratches, which represent nothing
exactly, but which, nevertheless, possess an infinite value

174 rETTEKS EEOM SWITZERLAND.

in my eyes, as serving to remind me of tlie happy moment
whose bliss even this bunglin<i^ exercise could not mar. AVhat
means, then, this sti-an2;e effort to pass fi-om art to nature,
and then back again from nature to art? If it gives promise
of an artist, why is steadiness wanting to me ? If it caUs me
to enjoyment, wherefore, then, am I not able to seize it ? I
lately had a present of a basket of fi'uit. I was in raptm-es at
the sight of it as of something heavenly. — such riches, such
abundance, such variety' and yet such aifiuity ! I could not
persuade myself to pluck off a single berr)- — I could not bring
myself to take a single peach or a fig. Most assuredly this
gratification of the eye and the inner sense is the highest and
most worthy of man ; in all probability it is the design of
Nature, when the himgry and thirst}' believe that she has
exhausted herself in marvels merely for the gi-atification of
their palate. Ferdinand came and found me in the midst of
these meditations: he did me justice, and then said, smihng, but
with a deep sigh, " Yes, we are not worthy to consume these
glorious products of Nature ; truly it were a pity. Permit
me to make a present of them to my beloved?' How glad
was I to see the basket carried off! How did I love Ferdi-
nand— how did I thank him for the feeling he had excited
in me — for the prospect he gave me ? Aye, we ought to
acquaint ourselves ^^"ith the beautiful ; we ought to contem-
plate it with raptm-e. and attempt to raise ourselves up to its
height. And in order to gain strength for that, Ave must
keep ourselves thoroughly unselfish — we must not make it
our o'tvTi, but rather seek to commimicate it : indeed, to make
a sacrifice of it to those who are dear and precious to us.

How sedulously are we shaped and moulded in our
youth — how constantly are we then called on to lay aside
now this, now that bad feeling ! But what, in fact, are our
so-caUcd bad feelings but so many organs by means of which
man is to help himself in life. How is not the poor child
worried, in whom but a little spark of vanity is discovered !
and yet what a poor miserable creature is the man who has
no vanity at all. I will now teU you what has led me to
make all these reflections. The day before yesterday we
were joined by a young fellow, who was most disagreeable to

CONTEXTIONAL EDrCATION. 175

me and to Ferdinand. His weak points were so prominent,
his emptiness so manifest, and his care for his outward appear-
ance so obvious, that we looked do^vn upon him as far in-
ferior to ourselves, yet everywhere he was better received
than we were. Among other of his follies, he wore a waist-
coat of red satin, which round the neck was so cut as to look
like the ribbon of some order or other. We could not
restrain oiu- jokes at this piece of absurdity, but he let them
all pass, for he drew a good profit from it, and perhaps
secretly laughed at us. For host and hostess, coachman,
waiter and chambermaid, and indeed not a few of our fellow-
travellers, were taken in by this seeming ornament, and
showed him greater politeness than oui'selves. Not only was
he always first waited upon, but. to our great hmniliation, we
saw that all the pretty girls in the inns bestowed all theii-
stolen glances upon him ; and then, when it came to the
reckoning, which his eminence and distinction had enhanced,
we had to pay our full shares. "NMio, then, was the fool in
the game? — ^not he, assuredly.

There is something pretty and instructive about the
symbols and maxims which one here sees on all the stoves.
Here you have the dra«-ing of one of these symbols which
particularly caught my fancy. A horse tethered by his hind
foot to a stake is grazins: round it as far as his tether will
permit ; beneath is written, *• Allow me to take my allotted
portion of food." This, too, will be the case with me, when
I come home, and, like the horse in the mill, shall have to
work away at your pleasure, and in return, like the horse
here on the stove, shall receive a nicely-measured dole for
my support. Yes, I am coming back, and what awaits me
was certainly well worth all the ti'ouble of cUmbing up these
mountain heights, of wandering through these valleys, and
seeing this blue sky — of discovering that there is a nature
which exists by an eternal voiceless necessity, which has no
wants, no feelings, and is di-vine, whilst we, whether in the
country or in the towns, have alike to toil hard to gain a
miserable subsistence, and at the same time struggle to subject
everything to our lawless caprice, and call it liberty !

1'6 LETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND,

Aye, I have ascended the Furca — the summit of S.
Gotthard. These sublime, incomparable scenes of nature, will
ever stand before my eye. Aye, I have read the Roman
history, in order to gain from the comparison a distinct and
vivid feeling what a thoroughly miserable being I am.

Never has it been so clear to me as during these last few
days, that I too coidd be happy on moderate means — could
be quite as happy as any one else, if only I knew a trade —
an exciting one, indeed, but yet one which had no conse-
quences for the morrow, which required nothing but industry
and attention at the time, without calling for either foresight
or retrospection. Every mechanic seems to me the happiest
of mortals : all that he has to do is already settled for him,
what he can do is fixed and known. He has not to rack his
brains over the task that is set him ; he works away without
thinlvirg, wdthout exertion or haste, but still w^th diligence
and pleasure in his work, like a bird building its nest, or a
bee constructing its cells. He is but a degree above the
beasts, and yet he is a perfect man. How do I envy the potter
at his wheel, or the joiner behind his bench !

Tilling the soil is not to my liking — this first and most
necessary of man's occupations is disagreeable to me. In it
man does but ape natm-e, who scatters her seeds everywhere,
whereas man woidd choose that a particular field should pro-
duce none but one particular fruit. But things do not go on
exactly so — ^the weeds spring up luxuriantly — the cold and
wet injures the crop, or the hau cuts it off entirely. The
poor husbandman anxiously waits throughout the year to see
how the cards will decide the game with the clouds, and
determine whether he shall win or lose his stakes. Such a
doubtful ambiguous condition may be right suitable to man, in
his present ignorance, while he knows not whence he came,
nor whither he is going. It may then be tolerable to man to
resign all his labours to chance : and thus the parson, at any
rate, has an opportunity, when things look thoroughly bad, to
remind him of Providence, and to connect the sins of hi»
flock with the incidents of nature.

ATSr ADYENTUKE. 177

So tlien I have nothing to joke Ferdinand about! I too
have met with a pleasant ad ventuic. Adventure! why do I
use the silly word ? There is nothing of adventure in a gentle
attraction which di-aws man to man. Oui" social life, our false
relations, those are adventures, these are monstrosities and
yet they come before us as well-known and as nearly akin
to us, as Uncle and Aunt.

We had been introduced to Herr Tüdou, and we found our-
selves very happy among this family — rich, oj^en-hearted,
good-natured, lively people, who in the society of their
children, in comfort and without care, enjoy the good which
each day brings with it — their property and their glorious
neighbourhood. We young folks were not requh-ed, as is too
often the case, in so many formal households, to sacrifice our-
selves at the card-table, in order to humour the old. On the
contrary, the old people, father, mother, and aimts, gathered
roimd us, when for our o^^^l amusement, we got u]) some little
games, in which chance, and thought, and wit, had their coun-
teracting influence. Eleonora — ^tbr I must now at last men-
tion her name — the second daughter — her image wiU for ever
be present to my mind — a slim slight-frame, delicately chi-
selled features, a bright eye — a palish complexion, which in
young girls of her age is rather pleasing than disagreeable,
as being a sign of no very incurable a malady — on the whole,
her appearance was extremely agreeable. She seemed cheer-
ful and lively and every one felt at his ease with her. Soon —
indeed I may ventm-e to say at once, — at once, on the very first
evening she made me her companion ; she sat by my side, and
if the game separated us a moment, she soon contrived to
find her old place again. I was gay and cheerful — my
journey, the beaiitiful weather, the countrj' — all had contri-
buted to produce in me an immoderate cheerfulness — aye, I
might almost venture to say, a state of excitement. I derived
it from everj-thing and imparted it to everj^thing ; even Fer-
dinand seemed to forget his fair one. We had almost ex-
hausted om-selves in varpng our amusements when we at last
thought of the "Game of Matrimony." The names of the
ladies and of the gentlemen were tlu-o%vn separately into two
hats, and then the pairs were dra\vn out one by one. On each
couple, as determined by the lot, one of the company M'hose
turn it might happen to he, had to write a little poem. Every

Vol. II. N

178

LETTEKS EEOM SWITZERLAND.

one of the party, father, mother, and aunts, were obliged to put
■ftieir names in the hats ; we cast in besides the names of
cm" acquaintances, and to enlage the number of candidates for
matrimony, we threw in those of all the well-known charac-
ters of the literaiy and of the political world. We com-
menced playing, and the first paii-s that were drawn were
highly distinguished personages. It was not everj' one, how-
BTcr, who was ready at once with his verses. She, Ferdinand
and myself, and one of the aunts who wrote very jjretty
verses in Fi-ench — we soon divided among ourselves the office
of secretary. The conceits were mostly good and the verses
tolerable. Her's especially, had a touch of natm-e about them
which distinguished them from all others ; without being really
clever they had a happy tm-n ; they were plaj^fid n^ithout being
bitter, and shewed good will towards every one. The father
laughed heartily, and his face was lit up with joy v/hen his
daughters verses were declared to be the best after mine.
Our unqualified approbation highly delighted him, — we praised
as men praise unexpected ment — as we praise an author who
has bribed us. At last out came my lot, and chance had
taken honourable care of me. It was no less a personage than
the Empress of all the Russias, who was di-awn to be my
partner for life. The company laughed heartily at the match,
and Eleonora maintained that the whole company must try
their best to do honour to so eminent a consort. AU began
to try : a few pens were bitten to pieces ; she was ready first,
but wished to read last; the mother and the aunt could make
nothing of the subj ect, and although the father was rather matter-
of-fact. Ferdinand somewhat humorous, and the aunts rather
reserved, still, thi-ough all you covdd see friendship and good-
will. At last it came to her tmn ; she drew a deep breath,
her ease and cheerfidness left her ; she did not read but rather
lisped it out — and laid it before me to read it to the rest. I
was astonished, amazed. Thus does the bud of love open in
beauty and modesty ! I felt as if a whole spring had
showered upon me aU its flowers at once ! Eveiy one was
silent. Ferdinand lost not his pi'esence of mind. "Beautiftd,"'
he exclaimed, " very beautiftd ! he deserves the poem as
little as an Empire." " If, only we have rightly understood
it," said the father: the rest requested I would read it once
more. My eyes had hitherto been fixed on the precious

AKT AND XATUKE. 179

■words, a shiidder ran through me from head to foot , Ferdinand
who saw my perplexity, took the paper up and read it. She
scarcely allowed him to finish before she di-ew out the lots for
another pair. The play was not kept up long after this and
refreshments were broug-ht in.

Shall I or shaU I not ? Is it right of me to hide in silence
any thing from him to whom I tell so much — nay, all ? Shall
I keep back from you a great matter, when I yet weary yon
with so many trifles which assuredly no one would ever read
but you who have taken so wonderful a Liking for me ? or shall
I keep back anj-thing from you because it might pei-haps give
you a false, not to say an ül opinion of me ? No — you know me
better than I even know myself. If I should do anything
which you do not believe possible I could do, you will amend
it; if I should do anything deserving of censure, you will not
spare me, — you will lead me and guide me whenever my pecu-
liarities entice me off the right road.

My joy, my rapture at works of art when they are true,
when they are immediate and speaking expressions of Nature
afford the greatest dehght to every collector, to every düet-
taute. Those indeed who call themselves connoisseui-s ai'C
not always of my opinion ; but I care nothing for their con-
noisseurship when I am happy. Does not li%-iug nature vividly
impress itself on my sense of vision ? Do not its images
remain fixed in my brain ? Do not they there gi-ow in beauty,
delighting to compare themselves in turn with the images
of art which the mind of others has also embellished and beau-
tified r I confess to you that my fondness for natm-e arises
from the fact of my always seeing her so beautiful, so lovely,
so brilliant, so ravishing, that the similation of the artist,
even his imperfect imitation transports me almost as much, as
if it were a perfect type. It is only such works of art. how-
ever, as bespeak genius and feeling that have any charms for
me. Those cold imitations which confine themselves to the
narrow circle of a certain meagre mannerism, of mere pains-
taking diligence, are to me utterly intolerable. You see, there-
fore, that my delight and taste cannot well be riveted by a
work of art, imless it imitates such objects of nacm-e as are
well known to me, so that I am able to test the imitation by
my own experience of the originals. Landscape, with all
that lives and moves therein — flowers and fruit-trees, Gothic

j^ 2

180 lETTEES FROM SWITZEKLANT).

churches, — a portrait taken directly from Nature, all this I

can recoojnizc. feel, and if you like, judge of. Honest W

amused himself with tJiis trait of my character, and in such a
way that I could not be offended, often made merry with it
at my expense. He sees much further in this matter, than I do,
and I shall always prefer that people should laugh at me while
they instruct, than that they should praise me without bcne-
fittmg me. He had noticed what things I was most immedi-
ately pleased with, and after a short acquaintance did not
hesitate to avow that in the objects that so transported me
there might be much that was truly estimable, and which
time alone would enable me to distinguish.

But I turn from this subject and mvist now, however cir-
cuitously, come to the matter which, though reluctantly, I
cannot but confide to you. I can see you in yoiu* room, in
your little garden, Avhere, over a pipe of tobacco, you will
probably break the seal and read this letter. Can your
thoughts follow me into this tree and motley world ? Will the
circumstances and true state of the case become clear to your
imagination? And will you be as indulgent towards yoiir
absent friend as I have often found you when jjresent ?

When my artistic friend became better acquainted with me,
and judged me worthy of being gradually introduced to better
pieces of art, he one day, not without a most mysterious look,
took me to a case, which, being opened, displayed a Danae, of
the size of life, receiving in her bosom the golden shower. I
was amazed at the splendour of the limbs — the magnificence
of the posture and arrangement — the intense tenderness and
the intellectuality of the sensual subject ; and yet I did but
stand before it in silent contemplation. It did not excite in
jue that rapture, that delight, that inexpressible pleasure.
My friend, who went on descanting upon the merits of the pic-
ture, ■s^ as too full of his own enthusiasm to notice my coldness,
and was delighted with the opportmiity this painting afforded
-him of pointing out the distinctive excellences of the ItaUan
School.

But the sight of this picture has not made me happy — it has
made me uneasy. How! said I to myself — in Mhat a strange
case do we civilized men find ourselves ■\^■ith our many conven-
tional restraints ! A mossy rock, a waterftill rivets my eye so
long that I can teU everything about it — its heights, its cavities,

STUDIES OF THE XUDE. 181

its lights and shades, its hues, its blending tints and reflections
— all is distinctly present to my mind ; and whenever I please,
comes vividly before me, in a most happy imitation. But of
that raasterpeice of Nature, the human frame — of the order
and sjTnmetry of the limbs, of all this I have but a vei-v gene-
ral notion — which in fact is no notion at all. My imagination
presents to me anything but a ■vi\-id image of this glorious
structure, and when art presents an imitation of it, to my eye
it awakens in me no sensation and I am unable to judge of the
merits of the picture. Xo, I will remain no longer in this
state of stupidity. T wiU stamp on my mind the shape of man,
as well as that of a cluster of grapes or of a peach-tree.

I sought an occasion and got Ferdinand to take a swim in
the lake. What a glorious shape has my friend ; how duly
proportioned are all his limbs: what fulness of form; what
splendoui' of youth ! "What a gain to have enriched mv ima-
gination with this perfect model of manhood ! Xow I can
people the woods, the meadow, and the hills, with similar fine
forms ! I can see him as Adonis chasing the boar, or as Nar-
cissus contemplating himself in the mirror of the spring.

But alas! my imagination cannot furnish, as yet, a Venus,
who holds him from the chace, a Venus who bewails his
death, or a beautiful Echo casting one sad look more on the
cold corpse of the youth before she vanishes for ever ! I have
therefore resolved, cost what it will, to see a female form in
the state that I have seen my friend.

When, therefore, we reached Geneva, I made ari'angements
in the character of an artist to complete my studies of the
nude figure, and to-moiTOw evening my wish is to be
gratified.

I cannot avoid going to-day with Ferdinand to a grand
party. It -n-ill form an excellent foil to the studies of this
evening. Well enough do I know those formal parties where
the old women require you to play at cards with them, and
the young ones to ogle with them ; where you must listen to
the learned, pay respect to the parson, and give way to the
noble, where the numerous lights show you scarcely one tole-
rable form, and that one hidden and bm-ied beneath some
barbarous load of frippery. I shall have to speak French,
too, — a foreign tongue — the use of which always makes a

182 rETTEKS FROM SWITZEKLAND.

man appear silly, whatever lie may think of himself, since the
best he can exjiress in it is nothing but common place, and
the most obvious of remarks, and that, too, only with stammer-
ing and hesitating lips. For what is it that distinguishes the
blockhead from the reaUy clever man but the peculiar quick-
ness and vividness with Avhich the latter discerns the nicer
shades and proprieties of all that come before him, and ex-
presses himself thereon with facility; whereas the former,
(just as we all do with a foreign language,) is forced on every
occasion to have recourse to some ready found and conver-
sational phrase or other? To-day I will calmly put up with
the sorry entertainment, in expectation of the rare scene of
nature which awaits me in the evening.

My adventure is over. It has fully equalled my expectation
— nay, surpassed it ; and yet I know not whether to congra-
tulate, or to blame myself on account of it.

Paet the Second.

Munster, Octoher 3, 1797.

From Basle you will receive a packet containing an account
of my travels up to that point, for we are now continuing in
good earnest our tom-s through Switzerland. On om" route
to Biel we rode up the beautifid valley of the Birsch, and at
last reached the pass which leads to this place.

Among the ridges of the broad and lofty range of moun-
tains the little stream of the Birsch found of old a channel for
itself. Necessity soon after may have driven men to
clamber wearily and painfully through its gorges. The
Romans in their time enlarged the track, and now you may
travel through it with perfect ease. The stream, dashing over
crags and rocks, and the read run side by side, and except
at a few points, these make up the whole breadth of the pass
which is hemmed in by rocks, the top of which is easily reached
by the eye. Behijid them the mountain chain rose with a
shght inclination ; the summits, however, were veiled by a mist.

Here walls of rock rise precipitously one above another ;
there immense strata run obliquely down to the river and the
I'oad — here again broad masses lie piled one over anothex',
while close beside stands a line of sharp-pointed crags. Wide

THE YALLEY OF THE BIRSCH. 183

clefts run yawning upwards, and blocks, of the size of a
wall, have detached themselves from the rest of the stony-
mass. Some fragments of the rock have rolled to the
bottom ; others are still suspended, and by theh- position
alarm j'ou, as also Ukely at any moment to come toppling down.
Now round, now pointed, now overgrown, now bare are
the tops of these rocks among and high above which some
single bald summit boldly towers, while along the perpendi-
cular cliffs and among the hollows below, the weather has
worn many a deep and winding cranny.

The passage through this defile raised in me a grand but
calm emotion. The sublime produces a beautiful calmness
in the soul which enth-ely possessed by it, feels as great as it
ever can feel. How glorious is svich a pm-e feeling, when it
rises to the veiy highest, without overflowing. My eye and
iny soul were both able to take in the objects before me, aud
as I was pre-occupied by nothing, and had no false tastes to
coimteract their impression, they had on me their fidl and
natm'al effect. When we compare such a feeling with that
we are sensible of, when we laboriously harass ourselves with
some trifle, and strain every nerve to gain as much as possible
for it, and as it were, to patch it out, striving to fm-nish joy
and aliment to the mind from its o\\ti creation ; we then feel
sensibly what a poor expedient, after aU, the latter is.

A young man, whom we have had for our companion from
Basle, said his feelings were very far fi'om what they were
on his first visit, and gave all the honour to novelty. I how-
ever would say, when we see such objects as these for the
fii'st time, the unaccustomed soul has to expand itself, and
this gives rise to a sort of painful joy — an overflowing of
emotion which agitates the mind, and draws from us the
most delicious tears. By this operation the sovd, without know-
ing it, becomes greater in itself, and is of coiirse not capable
of ever feeling again such a sensation, and man thinks in con-
sequence that he has lost something, whereas in fact he has
gained. What he loses in delight he gains in inward riches.
If only destiny had bidden me to dwell in the midst of some
gi'and scenery, then wovild I every morning have imbibed
greatness from its grandeur, as from a lonely valley I Moidd
extract patience and repose.

After reaching the end of the gorge I alighted, and went

184 LETTERS FK05I SAVITZERLAXD.

back alone through a part of the valley. I thus called forth
another profound feeling — one by which the attentive mind
may expand its joys to a high degree. One guesses in the
dark about the origin and existence of these singular forms.
It may have happened, when and how it may, — these masses
must, according to the laws of gravity and affinity, have been
formed gi-andly and simply by aggregation. Whatever revo-
hitions may subsequently have upheaved, rent and divided
them, the latter were only partial conAadsions, and even the
idea of such mighty commotions gives one a deep feeling of the
eternal stability of the masses. Time, too, bound by the ever-
lasting law, has had here greater, here less, effect upon them.

Internally their colom- appears to be yellowish. The air,
however, and the weather has changed the svu'face into a
bluish- grey, so that the original colour is only visible here
and there in streaks and in the fresh cracks. The stone itself
slowly crumbles beneath the influence of the weather, becoming
rounded at the edges, as the softer flakes wear away. In this
manner have been formed hollows and cavities gracefully
shelving off", which when they have sharp slanting and
pointed edges, present a singular appearance.

Vegetation maintains its rights on every ledge, on every
flat surface, for in every fissure the pines strike root, and
the mosses and plants spread themselves over the rocks. One
feels deeply convinced that here there is nothing accidental ;
that here there is working an eternal law which, however
slowly, yet sm-ely governs the universe, — that there is nothing
here fi-om the hand of man but the convenient road, by means
of which this singidar region is traversed.

Geneva, October 27, 1779.

The gi'cat mountain-range which, running from Basle to
Geneva, divides Switzerland from France, is, as you are aware,
named the Jm-a. Its principal heights run by Lausanne,
and reach as far as Rolle and Nyon. In the midst of this
summit ridge Nature has cut out — I might almost say washed
out — a remarkable valley, for on the tops of all these Ume-
stone rocks the operation of the primal waters is mani-
fest. It is called La Yallee de Joux, which means the
Valley of the Rock, since Joux in the local dialect signifies a

XX TALLEE DE JOrX. 185

rock. Before I proceed with the fm-ther description of oiir
journey. I will give you a brief geographical account of its
situation. Lengthwise it stretches like the mountain range
itself almost directly from south to north, and is locked in on
the one side by Sept Moncels. and on the other by Dent de
VauUon, which, after the Dole, is the highest peak of the
Jura. Its length, according to the statement of the neigh-
bourhood, is nine short leagues, but according to our rough
reckoning as we rode through it, six good leagues. The
mountainous ridge which bounds it lengthwise on the north,
and is also visible from the flat lands, is called the Black
Mountain (Le Xoir Mont). Towards the west the Risou rises
gradually, and slopes away towards Frauche Comte. France
and Berne diA"ide the valley pretty evenly between them ; the
former claiming the upper and inferior half, and the latter
possessing the lower and better portion, which is properly
called La VaUee du Lac de Joux. Quite at the upper part
of the vaUey, and at the foot of Sept Moncels, lies the Lac des
Rousses, widch has no single visible origin, but gathers its
waters from the nimierous springs which here gush out of the
soil, and from the little brooks which run into the lake from
all sides. Out of it flows the Orbe, which after nmning
through the whole of the French, and a great portion of the
Bernese teri-itory, forms lower down, and towards the
Dent de VauHon, the Lac de Joux, which falls on one side into
a smaller lake, the waters of which have some subterraneous
outlet. The breadth of the valley varies : above, near the
Lac des Rousses it is neai-ly half a league, then it closes in to
expand again presently, and to reach its gi-eatest breath,
which is nearly a league and a-half. So much to enable you
better to imderstand what follows ; M-hile you read it, how-
ever, I would beg you now and then to cast a glance upon
your map, although, so far as concerns this countiT, I have
foimd them all to be incorrect.

October 2ith. In company with a captain and an upper
ranger of the forests in these parts, we rode first of all up
Mont, a little scattered rillage, which much more correctly
might be called a line , of husbandmen's and vinedressers'
cottages. The weather was extremely clear ; when we turned
to look behind us, we had a view of the Lake of Geneva,
the mountains of Savoy and Valais, and could just catch

186 lETTEKS mOM SWITZERLAND.

Lausanne, and also, through a light mist, the country round
Geneva, Mont Blanc, which towers above aU the mountains
of Faucigni, stood out more and more distinctly. It was a
brilliant smiset, and the view was so grand, that no human
eye was equal to it. The moon rose almost at the full, ns we
•got continually higher. Through large pine forests we conti-
nued to ascend the Jura, and saw the lake in a mist, and in it
the reflection of the moon. It became lighter and lighter.
The road is a weU-madc causeway, though it was laid down
merely for the sake of facilitating the transport of the timber
to the plains below. We had been ascending for full three
leagues before the road began gently to descend. We thought
we saw below us a vast lake, for a thick mist filled the whole
vaUey Avhich we overlooked. Presently we came nearer to
the mist, and observed a white bow which the moon formed in
it, and were soon entirely enveloped in the fog. The com-
pany of the captain procured us lodgings in a house where
strangers were not usually entertained. In its internal ar-
rangement it differed in nothing from usual buildings of the
same kind, except that the great room in the centre was at
once the kitchen, the ante-room, and general gathering-place
of the family, and I'rom it you entered at once into the
sleeping-rooms, which were either on the same floor with it, or
had to be approached by stcjDS. On the one side was the fire,
Avhich was burning on the ground on some stone slabs, while
a chimney, built durably and neatly of planks, received and
carried ofi" the smoke. In the corner were the doors of the
oven ; all the rest of the floor was of wood, with the excep-
tion of a small piece near the window aromid the sink, which
was paved. Moreover, all around, and over head on the
beams a multitude of domestic articles and utensils were
arranged in beautiful order, and all kept nice and clean.

October 25ih. — This morning the weather was cold but clear,
the meadows covered with hoar fi'ost, and here and there
light clouds were floating in the air. We could pretty nearly
sm'vey the whole of the lower vallej', our house being situated
at the foot of the eastern side of Noir Mont. About eight we
set ofi", and in order to enjoy the sun fully, proceeded on the
western side. The part of the vaUey we now traversed was
divided into meadows, which, towards the lake were rather
swampy. The inhabitants either dwell in detached houses

THE DENT PE TAULIOX. 187

built by the side of their farms, or else have gathered closer
together in Little villages, which bear simple names derived
from their several sites. The fii'st of those that we passed
through was called " Le Sentier." We saw at a distance the
Dent de Vaulion peeping out over a mist which rested on
the lake. The valley grew broader, but our road now lay behind
a ridge of rock which shut out oui- view of the lake, and then
through another village called " Le Lieu." The mist arose, and
fell off highly variegated by the sun. Close hereto is a small
lake, which apparently has neither inlet nor outlet of its
waters. The weather cleared up completely as we came
to the foot of Dent de Vavdion, and reached the northern
extremity of the great lake, which, as it turns westward,
empties itself into a smaller by a dam beneath the bridge.
The village just above is called " Le Pout." The situation
of the smaller lake is what you may easuy conceive, as being
in a pecuhar little valley which may be called pretty. At the
western extremity there is a singular mill, built in a ravine of
the rock which the smaller lake used formerly to fill. At
present it is dammed out of the mill which is erected in the
hollow below. The water is conveyed by sluices to the wheel,
from which it falls into crannies of the rock, and being sucked
in by them, does not show itself again till it reaches Valorbe,
which is a full league off, where it again bears the name of
the Orbe These outlets {entonnoirs) require to be kept clear,
otherwise the water woidd rise and again fill the ravine, and
overflow the mill as it has often done abeady. We saw the
people hard at work removing the worn pieces of the lime-
stone and replacing them by others.

We rode back again over the bridge towards " Le Pont,"
and took a guide for the Dent du Vaulion. In ascending it
we now had the great Lake directly behind us. To the east
its boundary is the Noir IMont, behind which the bald peak of
the Dole rises up ; to the west it is shut in by the mountain
ridge, which on the side of the lake is perfectly bare. The smi
felt hot: it was between eleven and twelve oelock. By
degrees we gained a sight of the whole valley, and were able
to discern in the distance the '• Lac des Rousses,'' and then
stretching to oui- feet the district we had just ridden through
and the road which remained for om- return. During the
ascent my guide discoursed of the whole range of the country.

188 LETTERS FROM SAVITZEKIANT».

and :he lordships which, he said, it was possible to distinguish
from the peak. lu the midst of such talk -vve reached the
summit. But a very diflPercnt spectacle was prepared for us.
Under a bright and clear sky nothing was visible but the high
mountain chain, all the lower regions were covered with a white
sea of cloudy mist, which stretched from Geneva northwards,
along the horizon and glittered brilliantly in the sunshine.
Out of it, rose to the east, the whole line of snow and ice-
capt moimtains acknowledging no distinction of names of
either the Princes or Peoples, who fancied they were owners of
them, and o\\'ning subjection only to one Lord, and to the glance
of the Smi which was tinging them with a beautiful red. Mont
Blanc, right opposite to us, seemed the highest, next to it were
the ice-crowned summits of Valais and Oberland, and lastly,
came the lower mountains of the Canton of Berne. Towards
the west, the sea of mist which was imconfined to one spot ;
on the left, in the remotest distance, appeared the moimtains
of Solothurn ; somewhat nearer those of Neufchatel, and right
befoi'e us some of the lower heights of the Jura. Just below,
lay some of the masses of the Vaulion, to which belongs the
Dent, (tooth) which takes from it its name. To the west,
Franche-Comte, with its flat, outstretched and wood-covered
hills, shut in the whole horizon ; in the distance, towards the
north- west, one single mass stood out distinct from all the rest.
Straight before us, however, was a beautiful object. This was
the peak which gives this summit the name of a tooth. It de-
scends precipitously, or rather with a slight curve, inwards, and
in the bottom it is succeeded by a small valley of pine-trees, with
beautiful grassy patches here and there, while right beyond it
lies the valley of the Orbe (Val-orbe), where you see this stream
coming out of the rock, and can trace, in thought, its route
backwards to the smaller lake. The little town of "S^alorbe,
also lies in this valley. Most reluctantly we quitted the spot.
A delay of a few hours longer, (for the mist generally disperses
in about that time), would have enabled us to distinguish the
low lands with the lake — but in order that our enjoyment should
be perfect, we must always have something behind still to be
wished. As Ave descended we had the whole valley lying
perfectly distinct before us. At Le Pont we again mounted
oxn horses, and rode to the cast side of the lake, and passed
thi'ough TAbbaye de Joux, which at present is a village, but

THE DOLE. 189

once was a settlement of monks, to whom the whole valley be-
longed. Towards foui', we reached oiu* auberge aud found our
meal ready, of which we were assured by oui- hostess that at
twelve o'clock it would have been good eating, and which,
ovei'done as it was, tasted excellently.

Let me now add a few particulars just as they were told
me. As I mentioned just now. the valley belonged formerly
to the monks, who ha%'ing divided it again to feudatories, were
with the rest ejected at the Reformation. At present it
belongs to the Canton of Berue, and the mountains around are
the timber- stores of the Pays de Yaud. Most of the timber
is private property, and is cut up under supervision, and then
carried down into the plains. The planks are also made here
into deal utensils of all kinds, and pails, tubs, and similar
articles manufactured.

The people are civil and well disposed. Besides theii- trade
in wood, they also breed cattle. Their beasts are of a small
size. The cheese they make is excellent. They are very
industrious, and a clod of earth is with them a great treasure.
We saw one man with a horse and car, carefully collecting the
earth which had been thro-fl-n up out of a ditch, and carrying
it to some hollow places in the same field. They lay the
stones carefiüly together, and make little heaps of them.
There ai'e here many stone-poHshers, who work for the Gene-
vese and other tradesmen, and this business furnishes occu-
pation for many women and children. The houses are neat
but durable, the form and internal arrangements being de-
termined by the locality aud the wants of the inmates. Before
every house there is a running stream, and everywhere you
see signs of industry, activity, and wealth. But above aU
things is the highest praise due to the excellent roads, which,
in this remote region, as also in all the other cantons, are
kept up b)- that of Berne. A causeway is can-ied aU round
the valley, not unnecessarily broad, but in excellent repair, so
that the inhabitants can pursue their avocations without in-
convenience, and with their small horses and light carts pass
easily along. The air is very pm-e and salubrious.

26(h Oct. — Over our breakfast we deliberated as to the
road we should take on om- return. As we heard that the
Dole, the highest summit of the Jm-a, lay at no great distance
from the upper end of the valley, and as the weather promised
to be most glorious, so that we might to-day hope to enjoy

190 LETTEKS from; S\yiTZERLAXD.

all that clianee denied us yesterday, we finally determined to
take this route. We loaded a guide with bread and cheese,
and butter and wine, and by 8 o'clock mounted our horses.
Our route now lay along the upper part of the valley, in the
shade of Xoir Mont. It was extremely cold, and there had
been a sharp hoar-frost. We had stiU a good league to ride
tlu-ough the part belonging to Berne, before the causeway
"which there terminates branches off into two parts. Through
a little wood of pine trees we entered the French teiTitory.
Here the scene changed greatly. What first excited oiu-
attention was the -s^Tetehed roads. The soil is rather stony ;
everywhere you see great heaps of those which have been
picked off the fields. Soon you come to a part which is veiy
marshy and fidl of springs. The woods all around you are
in wi-etched condition. In all the houses and people you recog-
nise. I will not say want, but certainly a hard and meagre sub-
sistence. They belong, almost as serfs, to the canons of S.
Claude ; they are bound to the soil {glebes astn'cti), and are
oppressed with imposts {sitjets a la main-morte et au droit de
la suite), of which we wiU hereafter have some talk together, as
also of a late edict of the king's repealing the droit de la suite,
and inviting the owners and occupiers to redeem the main-morte
for a certain compensation. But still even this portion of the
vaUev is well cultivated. Tlie people love their coimtiy dearly,
though they lead a hard life, being driven occasionally to steal
the wood from the Bernese, and sell it again in the lowlands.
The first division is called the Bois d'Amant ; after passing
through it, we entered the pai'ish of Les Rousses, where we saw
before us the littleXake des Rousses and Les Sept Moncels, —
seven small hills of different shapes, but all connected together,
which form the southern limit of the valley. We soon came
upon the new road which runs from the Pays de Vaud to Paris.
AVe kept to this for a mile dowu wards, and now left entirely
the vallev. The bare summit of the Dole was before us. AVe
alighted from oirr horses, and sent them on by the road towards
S. Cergue while we ascended the Dole. It was near noon ;
the sun felt hot, but a cool south wind came- now and then to
refresh us. \Mien we looked round for a halting-place, we
had behind us Les Sept Moncels, we could stiU see a part of
the Lac des Rousses, and ai'ound it the scattered houses of the
parish. The rest of the valley was hidden from our eye by
the Noir Mont, above which we again saw om* yesterday's

VIEW FKOM THE DOLE. 191

view of Franche-Comte, and nearer at hand southwards, the last
STimmits and valley's of the Jm-a. We carefully avoided taking
advantage of a little peep in the hill, which would have given
us a glimpse of the country, for the sake of which in reality
our ascent was undertaken. I was in some anxiety about the
mist; however, from the aspect of the sky above, I drew a
favom-able omen. At last we stood on the highest summit,
and saw with the greatest delight that to-day we were in-
diilged with all that yesterday had been denied us. The whole
of the Pays de Vaux and de Gex lay like a plan before us :
all the different holdings di%-ided off with green hedges like
the beds of a parterre. We were so high that the rising
and sinking of the landscape before us was unnoticeable.
Villages, little towns, country-houses, vine-covered hills, and
higher up still, where the forests and Alps begin, the cow-
sheds mostly painted white, or some other light colour, all
glittered in the sunshine. The mist had already rolled off
from Lake Leman. We saw the nearest part of the coast on
our side, quite clear ; of the so-called smaller lake, where the
larger lake conti-acts itself, and turns towards Geneva, which
was right opposite to us, we had a complete view ; and on
the other side the coimtiy which shuts it in was gi'adually
clearing. But nothing could vie with the \äew of the moun-
tains covered with snow and glaciers. We sat down before
some rocks to shelter us from the cold wind, with the sunshine
full upon us, and highly relished our little meal. We kept
watching the mist, which gradually retired ; each one disco-
vered, or fancied he discovered, some object or other. One by
one we distinctly saw Lausanne, smTounded with its houses, and
gardens; then Bevay, and the castle of Chillon ; the momitains,
which shut out from our view the entrance into Valais, and
extended as far as the lake ; from thence the borders of Savoy,
Evian, Repaille, and Tonon, with a sprinkling of villages and
farm-houses between them. At last Geneva stood clear from
the mist, but beyond and towards the south, in the neighbour-
hood of Monte Credo and Monte Vauche, it stul hung immove-
able. When the eye turned to the left it caught sight of the
whole of the lowlands from Lausanne, as far as Solothum,
covered with a light halo. The ncai'er mountains and heights,
and every spot that had a white house on it, covld be closely dis-
tinguished. The gxiides pointed out a glimmering which they

192 XETTEKS FEOM SWITZERLAND.

Raid was the castle of Cbauvau, -which lies to the left of the
Neuberger-Sce. "\^'e were just able to guess whereabouts it lay,
but could not distinguish it through the bluish haze. There
are no words to express the grandeur and beauty of this view.
At the moment every one is scarcely conscious of what he
sees: — one docs but recall the names and sites of well-known
cities and localities, to rejoice in a vague conjecture that he
recognizes them in certain white spots which strike his eye
in the prospect before him.

And then the line of glittering glaciers was continually draw-
ing the eye back again to the mountains. The smi made his
way towards the west, and lighted up their gi'cat flat surfaces,
which were turned towards us. How beautifully before them
rose from above the snow the variegated rows of black rocks : — ■
teeth, — towers. — walls! Wild, vast, inaccessible vestibules!
and seeming to stand there in the free air in the first pm-ity
and freshness of their manifold variety! INIan gives up at
once all pretensions to the infinite, while he here feels that
neither with thought nor vision is he equal to the finite !

Before us we saw a fruitful and populous plain. The spot
on which we were standing was a high, bare mountain rock,
which, however, produces a sort of grass as food for the cattle,
which are here a great source of gain. This the conceited
lord of creation may yet make his own: — but those rocks be-
fore his eyes are like a train of holy virgins which the spirit of
heaven reserves for itself alone in these inaccessible regions.
Wo tarried awhile, tempting each other in turn to tiy and
discover cities, mountains, and regions, now with the naked
eye, now with the telescope, and did not begin to descend till
the setting sun gave permission to the mist, — his ov.ti part-
ing breath. — to spread itself over the lake.

\Yith sunset we reached the ruins of the fort of S. Cergue.
Even when we got down in the valley, our eyes were stiU
rivetted on the mountain glaciers. The furthest of these,
lying on oui" left in Oberland, seemed almost to be melting
into a light fiery vapour ; those still nearer stood with their
sides towards us, still glowing and red ; but by degrees they
became white, green, and grayish. There was something
melancholy in the sight. Like a powerful body over which
death is gradually passing from the extremities to the heart,
so the whole range gradually paled away as far as Mont

GENETA. 193

Blanc, whose ampler bosom was still covered all oyer vrith a
deep red blush, and even appeared to us to retain a reddish
tint to the very last, — just as when one is watcliing the death
of a dear friend, life still seems to linger, and it is difficult to
determine the very moment when the pulse ceases to beat.

This time also we were very loth to depart. "We found our
horses in S. Cergue ; and that nothing might be wanting to our
enjopnent, the moon rose and lighted us to Nyon. While on
the way, our strained and excited feelings were gradually
calmed, and assumed their wonted tone, so that we were able
with keen gratification to enjoy, fi-om our inn window, the
glorious moonlight which was spread over the lake.

At diiferent spots of our travels so much was said of the
remarkable character of the glaciers of Savoy, and when we
reached Geneva we were told it was becoming more and more
the fashion to visit them, that the Count*^ Avas seized with a
strange desire to bend our course in that direction, and from
Geneva to cross Cluse and Salenche, and enter the valley of
Chamouni, and after contemplating its M-onderful objects,
to go on by Valorsine and Trent into Valais. This route,
however, which was the one usually pm'sued by travellers, was
thought dangerous in this season of the year. A visit was
therefore paid to M. de Saussure at his country-house,
and his advice requested. He assured us that we need not
hesitate to take that route ; there was no snow as yet on the
middle-sized mountains, and if on our road we were attentive
to the signs of the weather and the advice of the country-
people, who were seldom wrong in their judgment, we might
enter upon this journey with perfect safety. Here is the copy
of the journal of a day"s hai-d travelHug.

Cluse, i)i Savoy, Nor. 3, 1779.
To-day on departing from Geneva our party divided. The
Count with me and a huntsman took the route to Savoy.
Friend W. with the horses proceeded through the Pays de
Yaud for Valais. In a light fom--wheeled cabriolet we pro-
ceeded first of all to A-isit Hüber at his country-seat, — a man
out of whom, mind, imagination and imitative tact, oozes at

* The Duke Charles Augustus of Weimar^ who travelled under the
title of Couut of ... .

Vol. II. o

194 LETTEES FROM SWITZERLAND.

every pore,— one of the veiy few thorough men we have met
with. He saM' us well ou our way, and then we set off with
the lofty snow-capped mountains, which we wished to reach,
before our eyes. From the Lake of Geneva the mountain-
chains verge towards each other to the point where Bonneville
lies, half way between the Mole, a considerable mountain, and
the Arve. There we took our dinner. Behind the town the
vaUey closes right in. Although not verj' broad, it has the
Arve flowing gently through it, and is on the southern side well
cultivated, and everj'where the soil is put to some profit. From
the early morning we had been in fear of its raining some time
at least before night, but the clouds gradually quitted the moim-
tains, and dispersed into fleeces, — a sign Avhich has more than
once in our experience proved a favourable omen. The air
was as warm as it usually is in the beginning of September,
and the country we travelled tlirough beautifid. Many of the
trees being still gi'een ; most of them had assumed a brownish-
yellow tint, but only a few were quite bare. The crops were
rich and verdant; the mountains caught from the red sunset
a rosy hue, blended with violet ; and all these rich tints
were combined with grand, beautiful, and agreeable forms
of the landscape. We talked over much that was good.
Towards 5 we came towards Cluse, where the valley closes, and
has only one outlet, through which the Arve issues from the
mountains, and by which also we propose to enter them
to-morrow. We ascended a lofty eminence, and saw be-
neath us the cit}% partly built on the slightly inclined side of
a rock, but partly on the flat portion of the valley. Our eyes
ranged with pleasiu'e over the valley, and sitting on the
gi"anite rocks we awaited the coining of night in calm and
varied discom'se. Towards seven, as we descended, it was
not at all colder than it is usually in summer about nine. At
a miserable inn (where, however, the people were ready and
wuling, and by their patois afforded us much amusement) we
are now going, about ten o'clock, to bed, intending to set out
early to-moiTOw, before the morning shall dawn.

Sahnche, Nov. 4, 1779. Noon.
Whilst a dinner is being prepared by very willing hands,
I will attempt to set down the most remarkable incidents of
our yesterday's journey, M'hich commenced with the early

THE CAVEKN OF THE COL DE BALME. 195

morning. "With break of day we set out on foot from Cluse,
taking the road towards Balme. In the valley the air was
agreeably fresh ; the moon, in her last quarter, rose bright
before the sun, and charmed us with the sight, as being one
"which we do not often see. Single light vapours rose upwards
from all the chasms in the rocks. It seemed as if the morning
air were awakening the young spirits, who took pleasure in
meeting the svm with expanded bosoms and gilding them in
his rays. The upper heaven was perfectly clear ; except where
now and then a single cloudy streak, which the rising sun lit
up, swept lightly across it. Balme is a miserable village, not
far from the spot where a rocky gorge runs off from the road.
We asked the people to guide vis through the cave for which
the place is famous. At this they kept looking at one
another, tiU at last one said to a second, " Take you the
ladder, I will carry the rope, — come, gentlemen." This
strange invitation did not deter us fr-om following them.
Our line of descent passed fii'st of all among fallen masses of
limestone rock, which by the course of time had been pued
up step by step in front of the precipitous wall of rock, and
were now overgrown with bushes of hazel and beech. Over
these you reach at last the strata of the rock itself, which
you have to climb up slowly and painfully by means of the
ladder and of the steps cut into the rock, and by help of
branches of the nut-trees, which hung over head, or of
pieces of rope tied to them. After this you find yom-self, to
your great satisfaction, in a kind of portal, M'hich has been worn
out of the rock by the weather, and overlooks the valley and
the ■N'illage below. We now prepared for entering the cave;
lighted our candles and loaded a pistol which we proposed to
let ofi^. The cave is a long gallery, mostly level und on one
strand; in parts broad enough for two men to walk abreast,
in others only passable by one; now high enough to walk
upright, then obliging you to stoop, and sometimes even to
crawl on hands and feet. Neai"ly about the middle a cleft
rvms upwards and forms a sort of a dome. In one corner ano-
ther goes downwards. We threw several stones down it, and
counted slowly from seventeen to nineteen before it reached
the bottom, after touching the sides many times, but ahAays
with a different echo. On the walls a stalactite fonns its
various devices; however it is only damp in a very £ew places,

o 2

196 LETTEKS EEOM S-\VITZERLA>-D.

and forms for the most part long droj)s, and not those rich and
rare shapes which are so remarkable in Baumann" s cave. We
penetrated as far as we could for the water, and as we came
out let off our pistol, which shook the cave with a strong but
dull echo, so that it boomed round us like a bell. It took us
a good quarter of an hour to get out again, and on descend-
ing the rocks, we found our carriage and di'ove onwards.
At Staubbachs- Art we saw a beautiful waterfall; neither
its height was very great nor its volume very large, and yet it
was extremely interesting, for the rocks formed around it,
as it were, a circular niche in which its Avaters fell, and the
pieces of the limestone as they were tumbled one over another
formed the most rare and unusual groups.

We arrived here at mid-day, not quite hungry enough to
relish our dinner, which consisted of warmed fish, cow beef,
and very stale bread. From this place there is no road
leading to the mountains that is passable for so stately an
equipage as we have with us; it therefore returns to Geneva,
and I now must take my leave of you, in order to pursue my
route a little further. A mule with my luggage will follow
us as we pick our way on foot.

Chamotmi, Nov. 4, 1779.
Evening, about 9 o'clock.

It is only because this letter will bring me for awhile nearer
to yourself that I resume my pen; otherwise it would be
better for me to give my mind a little rest.

We left Salenche behind us in a lovely open valley ; during
our noonday's rest the sky had become overcast with white
fleecy clouds, about which I have here a special remark to
make. We had seen them on a bright day rise equally fine,
if not still finer, from the glaciers of Beme. Here too it
again seemed to us as if the sun, had first of all attracted the
light mists which evaporated from the tops of the glaciers,
and then a gentle breeze had, as it were, combed the fine
vapours, like a fleece of foam over the atmosphere. I never re-
member at home, even in the height of summer, (when such
phenomena do also occur with us,) to have seen any so trans-
parent, for here it was a perfect web of light. Before long
the ice-covered mountains from which it rose lay before us ; the

THE VALLEY OF CHAJIOUXI MONT BLAKC. 197

valley began to close in ; the Arve "was gushing out of the
rock ; we now began to ascend a mountain, and went up higher
and higher, with the snowy summits right before us. Moun-
tains and old pine forests, either in the hollows below or on
a level with our track, came out one by one before the eye
as we proceeded. On our left were the mountain-peaks, bare
and pointed. "We felt that we were approaching a mightier
and more massive chain of mountains. We passed over a
dr}' and broad bed of stones and gravel, Avhich the water-
courses tear down from the sides of the rocks, and in turn
flow among and fill up. This brought us into an agreeable
vaUey, flat, and shut in by a circular ridge of rocks, in which
lies the little village of Serves. There the road runs round
some verj' highly variegated rocks, and takes again the direc-
tion towards the Arve. After crossing the latter you again
ascend ; the masses become constantly more imposing, natm-e
seems to have begun here "with a Hght hand, to prepare
her enormous creations. The darkness grew deeper and
deeper as we approached the vaUey of Chamouni, and when at
last we entered it, nothing but the larger masses were dis-
cernible. The stars came out one by one, and we noticed
above the peaks of the summits right before us, a light which
we could not account for. Clear, but Avithout brilliancy, like
the milky way, but closer, something like that of the Pleiades ;
it rivetted our attention until at last, as our position changed,
like a pjTamid illuminated by a secret Hght within, which
could best be compared to the gleam of a glow-worm, it
towered high above the peaks of aU the surroimding mountains,
and at last con-vinced us that it must be the peak of Mont
Blanc. The beauty of this "view was extraordinarj'. For
■while, together with the stars which clustered roimd it, it
gUmmered, not indeed with the same twinkling light, but in
a broader and more continuous mass, it seemed to belong to a
higher sphere, and one had difficidty in thought to fix its
roots again in the earth. Before it Ave saAv a Hne of snoAvy
summits, sparkling as they rested on the ridges coA^ered AA-ith
the black pines, while between the dark forests vast glaciers
sloped doAvn to the valley below.

My descriptions begin to be irregular and forced ; in fact,
one Avants two persons here, one to see and the other to
describe.

198 LETTERS FRON SWITZERXAXD.

Here vre are in the middle village of the valley called " Le
Prieui-e," comfortably lodged in a house, which a ■^^•idow
caused to be built here in honoui- of the many strangers who
visited the neighboiu-hood. We are sitting close to the
heai-th, relishing our Muscatel vrine from the VaUee d"Aost,
far better than the lenten dishes which were served up for
our dinner.

iVbf. 5, 1779. Evening.

To take up one's pen and write, almost requires as great
an. effort as to take a s'O'im. in the cold river. At this mo-
ment I have a great mind to put you off, by refeiTing you to
the description of the glaciers of Savoy, given by that enthu-
siastic climber Bourritt.

Invigorated however by a few glasses of excellent wine,
and by the thought that these pages Avill reach you much
sooner than either the travellers or Bourritfs book, I will do
my best. The valley of Chamouni, in which we are at pre-
sent, lies very high among the mountains, and, from six to
seven leagues long, runs pretty nearly fi-om south to north.
The characteristic featm-es which to my mind distinguish it
from all others, are its having scarcely any flat portion, but
the whole ti-act, like a trough, slopes from the Arve gi-adually
up the sides of the mountain. Mont Blanc and the line of
mountains which runs off from it, and the masses of ice which
fill up the immense rapines, make up the eastern wall of the
valley, on which, throughout its entire length, seven glaciers,
of which one is considerably larger than the others, run
down to the bottom of the valley.

The guides whom we had engaged to show us to the ice-lake"
came to their time. One was a young active peasant, the
other much older, who seemed to think himself a very shrewd
personage, who had held intercourse with all learned fo-
reigners, well acquainted with the nature of the ice-moun-
tains, and a very clever fellow. He assured us that for
eight and twenty years. — so long had he acted as giiide over
the moimtains, — this was the first time that his services had
been put in requisition so late in the year — after All Saints'
Day, and yet that we might even now see every object quite
as well as in June. Provided with wine and food we began to

THE ICE-LAKE. 199

ascend Mont Anvcrt, from which we were told the view of
the ice-lake would be quite ra-s-ishing;. Properly I should
caU it the ice-valley or the ice-stream ; for looking at it from
above, the huge masses of ice force themselves out of a deep
vaUey in tolerable smoothness. Right behind it ends a
sharp-pointed moimtain, from both sides of which waves of
ice rim frozen into the principal stream. Not the slightest
trace of snow was as yet to be seen on the rugged surfaces,
and the blue crcv-ices glistened beautifully. The weather by
degrees became overcast, and I saw grey wavy clouds, which
seemed to threaten snow, more than it had ever yet done.
On the spot where we were standing is a small cabin,
built of stones, loosely piled together as a shelter for travel-
lers, which in joke has been named " The Castle of Mont
Auvert." An Englishman, of the name of Blaire, who is
residing at Geneva, has caused a more spacious one to be built
at a more convenient spot, and a little higher up, where,
sitting by a fire-side, you catch thi'ough the window a view
of the whole Ice- Valley. The peaks of the rocks over against
you, as also in the valley below, are very pointed and rugged.
These jags are called needles, and the AiguiUe du Dru is a
remarkable peak of this kind, right opposite to Mont Anvert.
We now wished to walk upon the Ice Lake itself, and to con-
sider these immense masses close at hand. Accordingly we
climbed down the mountain, and took nearly a huncfred steps
round about on the wave-like ciystal cliffs. It is certainly
a singular sight, when standing on the ice itself, you see
before you the masses pressing upwards, and divided by
strangely shaped clefts. However, we did not like standing
on this slippery surface, for we had neither come prepared
"with ice-shoes, nor with nails in our usual ones ; on the con-
trary, those which we ordinarily wore had become smooth
and romided with oiu- long walk ; we, therefore, made our
way back to the hut, and after a short rest were ready for
retiu-ning. We descended the movmtain, and came to the
spot where the ice-stream, step by step, forces its way to the
valley below, and we entered the cavern, into which it
empties its water. It is broad," deep, and of the most beau-
tiful blue, and in the cave the supjjly of water is more inva-
riable than further on at the mouth, since great pieces of
ice are constantly melting and dissolving in it.

200 LETTEKS PROM SWITZEKLAND.

On our road to the Auberge we passed the house where there
were two Albinos, — childi-en between twelve and fourteen,
with very white complexions, rough white hair, and with red
and restless eyes like rabbits. The deep night which hangs
over the valley in-sites me to retire early to bed, and I am hardly
awake enough to tell you, that we have seen a tame yomig ibex,
who stands out as distinctly among the goats as the natural
son of a noble priuce from the burgher's family, among whom
he is privately brought up aud educated. It does not suit
with om- discom-ses, that I shoiüd speak of anything out of
its due order. Besides, you do not take much delight in
specimens of granite, quartz, or in larch and pine trees,
yet, most of all, you would desire to see some remarkable
fruits of our botanising. I think I am stupid with sleep, —
I cannot write another line.

Chamouni, Nov. 6, 1776. Early.

Content with seeing all that the early season allows us to
see, we are ready to start again, intending to penetrate as
far as Valais to-day. A thick mist covers the whole valley,
and reaches half way up the mountains, and we must wait
and see what sun and wind wiU yet do for us. Om* guide
purposes that we should take the road over the Col-de-Balme,
a lofty eminence, which lies on the north side of the valley
towards Valais, from the summit of which, if we are lucky,
we shall be able to take another survey of the valley of
Chamouni, and of all its remarkable objects.

Whilst I am writing a remarkable phenomenon is passing
along the sky. The mists which are shifting about, and break-
ing in some places, allow you through their openings as through
skylights, to catch a glance of the blue sky. while at the same
time the mountain peaks, which rising above om* roof of
vapour, are illuminated by the smi's rays. Even Avithout the
hope it gives of a beautiful day, this sight of itself is a rich
treat to the eye.

We have at last obtained a standard for judging the heights
of the mountains. It is at a -considerable height above the
valley, that the vapour rest^ on the mountains. At a stiU
greater height are clouds, which have floated off upwards
from the top of the mist, and then far above these clouds
you see the summits glittering in the sunshine.

COL DE BALME. 201

It is time to go. I mxist bid farewell to this beautiful
vallev and to vou.

Martinac, in T'ahiis,
Ä'ov. 6, 1779. Evening.

\\e have made the passage across -without any mishap, and
so this adventure is over. The joy of our good luck will keep
mv pen going merrily for a good half hour yet.

Having packed our luggage on a mule, we set out early
(about 9.) from Prieure. The clouds shifted, so that the peaks
were now ^isible and then were lost again ; at one moment
the sim"s rays came in streaks on the valley, at the next the
whole of it was again in shade. "We went up the valley,
passing the outlet of the ice-stream, then the glacier
d'Argentiere, which is the highest of the five, the top of it
however was hidden from ova- view by the clouds. On the
plain we held a counsel, whether we should or not take the
route over Col de Balme. and abandon the road over Valorsine.
The prospect was not the most promising ; however, as here
there was nothinsr to lose and much perhaps to gain, we
took our way boldly towards the dark region of mists and
clouds. As we approached the Glacier du Tour, the clouds
parted, and we saw this glacier also in full light. We sat
do-RTi awhile and di-ank a flask of wine, and took something
to eat. We now mounted towards the sources of the Arve,
passing over rugged meadows and patches scantily covered
with turf, and came nearer and nearer to the region of mists,
untU at last we entered right into it. We went on patiently
for awhile tiU at last as we got tip higher, it began again to
clear above our heads. It lasted for a short time, so we passed
right out of the clouds, and saw the whole mass of them
beneath us spread over the valley, and were able to see the
summits of all the moimtains on the right and left that en-
closed it, with the exception of Mont Blanc, which was
covered -«ith clouds. We were able to point them out one
by one, and to name them. In some we saw the glaciers
reaching from theh' summits to their feet, in others we could
only discern their tracks, as the ice was concealed from
om- view by the rocky sides of the gorges. Beyond the
whole of the flat sui-face of the clouds, except at its southern

202 XETTEKS FROM SWITZEELAND.

extremity, we could distinctly see the mountains glitteiing in
the sunshine. Why should I enumerate to you the names of
simimits, peaks, needles, icy and snowy masses, when theii'
mere designations can furnish no idea to yoiu* mind, either of
the whole scene or of its single objects?

It was quite singular how the spirits of the air seemed to
be waging war beneath us. Scarcely had we stood a few
minutes enjoying the grand view, when a hostile ferment
seemed to arise within the mist, and it suddenly rose upwards
and threatened once more to envelope us. "We commenced
stoutly ascending the height, in the hope of yet awhile escap-
ing ii-om it, but it outsti-ipped tis and enclosed us on all
sides. However, perfectly fresh, we continued to mount,
and soon there came to om- aid a strong wind, blowing from
the mountain. Blowing over the saddle which connected
two peaks, it di'ove the mist back again into the vaUey.
This strange conflict was frequently repeated, and at last, to
our joy, we reached the Col de Balme. The view iiom it
was singular, indeed unique. The sky above the peaks was
overcast with clouds ; below, through the man)- openings in
the mist, we saw the whole of Chamoimi, and between these
two layers of cloud the mountain summits Avere all visible.
On the east we were shut in by rugged moimtains, on the
west we looked down on wild valleys, where, however, on
eyery gi'een patch human dweUings were visible. Before us
lay the valley of Valais, where at one glance the eye took in
mountains piled in every varictA' of mass one upon another, and
stretching as far as Martinac and even beyond it. Sun-oimded
on aU sides bv mountains which, fiurther on towards the
horizon, seemed continually to midtiply and to tower higher
and higher, we stood on the confines of Valais and Savoy.

Some contrabandists, who were ascending the moimtains
with their mules, were alarmed at seeing us, for at this
season they did not reckon on meeting with any one at this
spot. They fired a shot to intimate that they were armed,
and one advanced before the rest to reconnoitre. Having
recognised our guide and seen what a hai-mless figure we
made, he returned to his party, who now approached us, and
we passed one another with mutual greetings.

The wind now blew sharp, and it began to snow a little as
we commenced our descent, which was rough and wild

VALAIS. 203

enough, through an ancient forest of pines, which had taken
root on the faces of the gneiss. Tom up by the winds, the
trunks and roots lay rotting together, and the rocks which
were loosened at the same time were lying in rough masses
among them.

At last we reached the valley where the river Trent takes
its rise from a glacier, and passing the village of Trent, close
upon om- right, we followed the windings of the valley along
a rather inconvenient road, and about six reached Martinac,
which lies in the flatter portion of the Valais. Here we
must refresh oui-selves for fm-ther expeditions.

Martinac, Nov. 6, 1779.
Eveninc/.

Just as our travels proceed xminterruptcdly, so my letters
one after another keep up my conversation with you. Scarcely
have I folded and put aside the conclusion of " Wanderings
through Savoy," ere I take up another sheet of paper in
order to acquaint you with all that we have further in con-
templation.

It was night when we entered a region about which oiu-
curiosity had long been excited. As yet we have seen nothing
but the peaks of the mountains, which enclose the valley on
both sides, and then only in the glimmering of twuight.
We crept wearuy into o\^x auberge, and saw from the window
the clouds shifting. We felt as glad and comfortable to
have a roof over oui* heads, as childi'en do when with stools,
table-leaves and carpets, they construct a roof near the stove,
and therein say to one another that outside " it is raining or
snowing,'' in order to excite a pleasant and imaginaiy shud-
der in theh- little souls. It is exactly so with us on this
autimnial evening in this strange and miknown region.

We leani from the maps that we are sitting in the angle of
an elbow, fi-om which the smaller part of Valais, running
almost directly from south to north, and with the Rhone,
extends to the lake of Geneva, while the other and the larger
portion stretches from west to east, and goes up the Rhone
to its soiu-ce, the Furca. The prospect of riding through
the Valais is very agreeable, om- only anxiety is how we
are to cross over into it. First of all, with the view of

204 tETTEKS FKOM SWITZERLAND.

seeing the lower portion, it is settled that we go to-morrow
to S. Maurice, where we are to meet our friend, Avho
with the horses has gone round by the Pays de Vaud. To-
morrow evening we think of being here again, and then on
the next day shall begin to go up the country. If the
advice of M. de Saussure prevails, we shall perform the route
to the Furca on horseback, and then back to Brieg over the
Simplon, where, in any Aveather, the travelling is good over
Domo d'Osula, Lago Maggiore, Bellinzona, and then up
Mount Gotthard. The road is said to be excellent, and eveiy-
where passable for horses. We shoidd best prefer going over
the Furca to S. Gotthard, both for the sake of the shorter
route, and also because this detoiu* through the ItaHan pro-
vinces was not witliin our original plan, but then what could
we do with our horses ; they could not be made to descend
the Furca, for in all probability the path for pedestrians is
already blocked up by the snow.

"With regard to the latter contingency, however, we are
quite at our ease, and hope to be able, as we have hitherto
done, to take counsel, fi'om moment to moment, with cir-
cumstances as they arise.

The most remarkable object in this inn is a servant-girl,
who Avith the greatest stupiditj' giA^es herself all the airs of
one of our would-be delicate German ladies. "We had a good
laugh, when after bathing our weary feet in a bath of red
wine and clay, as recommended by our guide, Ave had in the
affected hoyden to wipe them dry.

Our meal has not refreshed us much, and after supper we
hope to enjoy our beds more.

S. Maurice, Nov. 7, 1779.
Nearly Noon.

On the road it is my way to enjoy the beautiful views, in
order that I may call in one by one my absent friends, and
conA-erse with them on the subject of the glorious objects.
If I come into an inn it is in order to rest myself, to go back
in memory and to AA'nte something to you, AA'hen many a time
my overstrained faculties Avould much rather collapse upon
themselves, and recover their tone in a sort of half sleep.

This morning we set off at dawn from Martinac ; a fresh

THE "WATEEFAXL OF PISSE TACHE. 205

breeze "was stirring with the day, and we soon passed the old
castle which stands at the point where the two arms of Valais
make a sort of Y. The valley is narrow, shut in on its
tM'o sides by mountains, highly diversified in their forms, and
which without exception are of a peculiar and sublimely
beautiful character. "We came to the spot where the Trent
breaks into the valley around some narrow and perpendicular
rocks, so that one almost doubts whether the river does not
flow out of the solid rock itself. Close by stands the old
bridge, which only last year was greatly injui-ed by the
stream, while not far from it lie immense masses of rock,
which have fallen very recently from the mountains and
blocked up the road. The whole gi-oup together would make
an extremely beautiful picture. At a short distance from the
old bridge a new wooden one has been built, and a new road
been laid down to it.

We were told that we were getting near the famous water-
fall of Pisse Vache, and wished heartily for a peep at the
sun, while the shifting clouds gave us a good hope that our
wish would be gratified. On the road we examined various
pieces of gi-anite and of gneiss, which with all their differ-
ences seem, nevertheless, to have a common origin. At last
we stood before the waterfall, which well deserves its fame
above all others. At a considerable heig^ht a strong: stream
bursts from a cleft in the rock, falling do^\^lward into a basin,
over which the foam and spray is carried f;ir and wide by
the -nind. The svm at this moment came forth from the
clouds, and made the sight doubly vi-vid. Below in the spray,
wherever you go, you have close before you a rainbow. If
you go higher up, you stul witness no less singular a pheno-
menon. The airy foaming waves of the upper stream of
water, as with their frothy vapour, they come in contact with
the angle of vision at which the rainbow is formed, asstmie
a flame-like hue, without gi'N'ing rise to the pendant form of
the bow, so that at this point you have before you a con-
stantly varying play of fire.

We climbed all round, and sitting down near it, wished
vre were able to spend whole days and many a good hour of
our life on this spot. Here too, as in so many other places
during our present tour, we felt how impossible is was to

206 LETTEKS FBOZvI SWITZEBLAND.

enjoy aud to be fully impressed with grand objects on a pass-
ing visit.

We next came to a village where there were some merry
soldiers, and we drank there some new wine. Some of the
same sort had been set before us yesterday. It looked like
soap and water : however, we had rather drink it than their
sour " this year's" and " two years" old'' whie. When one
is thirsty nothing comes amiss.

We saw S. Maurice at a distance ; it lies just at the
point where the valley closes in, so much as to cease to be
anything more than a mere pass. Over the city, on the left,
we saw a small church with a hennitage close to it. and we
hope to have an opportunit}' yet of visiting them both.

We foiuid in the inn a note fi-om our friend, who has
stopped at Bee, which is about thi-ee quarters of a league
from this jAace ; we have sent a messenger to him. iTie
Count is gone out for a walk to see the country before us. I
shall take a morsel to eat, and then set out towards the
famous bridge and the pass.

After 1 o'clock.

I have at last got back from the spot where one could be
contented to spend whole days together, lounging and loiter-
ing about without once getting tired, holding converse with
oneself.

If I had to advise any one as to the best route into Valais,
I should recommend the one from the Lake of Geneva up the
Rhone. I have been on the road to Bee over the gi-eat bridge,
from which you step at once into the Bemese territority.
Here the Rhone flows downwards, and the valley near the
lake becomes a little broader. As I turned round again I
saw that the rocks near S. ^Maurice pressed together fr-om
both sides, and that a small light bridge, with a high arch,
was thi'own boldly across from them over the Rhone, which
rushes beneath it with its roaring and foaming stream. The
numerous angles and tmTets of a fortress stands close to the
bridge, and a single gateway commands the entrance into
Valais. I went over the bridge back towards S. Mamice,
and even beyond it, in search of a A'iew which I had formerly
seen a drawing of at Iluber's house, and by good luck foimd it.

PKOM MARTINAC TO SION. 207

' The count is come back. He had gone to meet the horses
and mounting his grey had outstripped the rest. He says the
bridge is so light and beautiful that it looks like a horse in the
act of leaping a ditch. Our friend too is coming, and is quite
contented with his tour. He accomplished the distance from
the Lake of Geneva to Bee in a few days, and we are all de-
lisrhted to see one another ag^aia.

Martinac, toicards 9.
We were out riding till late at night, and the road seemed
much louger returning than going, as in the morning, our atten-
tion had been constantly attracted from one object to another.
Besides I am for this day, at least, heailily tired of descrip-
tions and reflections; however, I must try hastily to per-
petuate the memory of two beautiful objects. It was deep
twiUght when on our return we reached the AvaterfaU of the
Pisse Vache. The moimtains, the valley, and the heavens
themselves were dark and dusky. By its greyish tint and
unceasing murmur you could distinguish the falling stream
from all other objects, though you could scarcely discern the
slightest motion. Suddenly the summit of a very high peak
glowed just like molten brass in a fm-nace, and above it rose
a red smoke. This singular phenomenon was the effect of
the setting sun which illuminated the snow and the mists
which ascended from it.

Sion, Nov. 8, 1 779.
about 3 o'clock.
This morning we missed our way riding, and were delayed
in consequence, three houi's at least. We set out from
Martinac before dawn, in order to reach Sion in good time.
The weather was exti-aordinarily beautifid, only that the sun
being low in the heavens was shut out by the mountains, so
that the road, as we passed along, vras entirely in the shade,
The -view, however, of the marvellously beautifid valley of
Valais brought up many a good and cheerfiü idea. We had
ridden for fidl three hours along the high road with the
Rhone on our left, when we saw Sion before us ; and we were
beginning to congratulate ourselves on the prospect of soon

208 tETTEKS TROM SWITZERLAND.

ordering our noon-day's meal, when vre found that the bridge
we ought to cross had been carried away. Nothing remained
for us, we were told by the people who were busy repairing
it, but either to leave our horses and go by a foot-path which
ran across the rocks, or else to ride on for about three miles,
and then cross the Rhone by some other bridges. We chose
the latter ; and we would not suffer any ill -humour to get
possession of us, but determined to ascribe this mischance to
the interposition of our good genius, who intended to take us
a slow ride through this interesting region with the advantage
of good day-light. Everj'where, indeed, in this narrow
district, the Rhone makes sad havoc. In order to reach the
other bridges we were obliged, for more than a league and a
half, to ride over sandy patches, which in the various immda-
tions are constantly shifting, and are useful for nothing but
alder and willow beds. At last we came to the bridges,
which were wretched, tottering, long, and composed of rotten
timbers. We had to lead our horses over one by one, and
with extreme caution. We were now on the left side of the
Valais and had to turn backwards to get to Sion. The road
itself was for the most part wretched and stony ; every step,
however, opened a fresh \-iew, which was well worth a
painting. One, however, was particularly remarkable. The
road brought us up to a castle, below which there was spread
out the most lovely scene that we had seen in the whole road.
The moimtains nearest to us nm down on both sides slantingly
to the level ground, and by their shape gave a kind of per-
spective effect to the natural landscape. Beneath us was the
Yalais in its entire breadth from mountain to mountain, so
that the eye could easily take it in ; the Rhone, with its ever-
vaiying windings and bushy banks was flowing past villages,
meadows, and richly cultivated highlands; in the distance you
saw the Castle of Sion, and the various hiUs which begin to
rise behind it ; the farthest horizon was shut in, amphitheatre
like, with a semicircular range of snow-capped mountains which,
like aU the rest of the scene, stood glittering in the sun's
meridian splendoiu". Disagreeable and rough was the road
we had to ride over; we therefore enjoyed the more, perhaps,
the still tolerably green festoons of the ^-ines which over-arched
it. The inhabitants, to whom every spot of earth is precious,
plant their grape-vines close against the walls which divide

SIOX SETTERS. 209

their little holdings from the road, ■where they grow to an
exti'aordinary thiclmess, and by means of stakes and trellises
are trained across the road so as almost to form one con-
tinuous arbour. The lower grounds were principally mea-
dows: in the neighbourhood of Sion, however, we noticed
some tillage. Towards this town the scenery is extremely
diversified by a variety of hills, and we ^\■ished to be able to
make a longer stay in order to enjoy it. But the hideousness
of the town and of the people fearfully disturb the pleasant
impression which the scenery leaves. The most frightful
goitres put me altogether out of humour. We cannot well
put our horses any further to-day, and therefore we think of
going on foot to Se}i;ers. Here in Sion the inn is disgusting,
and the whole town has a dirty and revolting appearance.

Seyters, Nov. 8, 1779.
NigJit.
As evening had begiui to fall before we set out from Sion,
we reached here at night, with the sky above us clear and
starry. We have consequently lost many a good view — that
I know well. Particularly we should have liked to have
ascended to the Castle of Tom-billon, which is at no gi-eat
distance from Sion; the view from it must be uncommonly
beautiful. A guide whom we took with us skilfully guided
us through some wretched low lands, where the water was
out. We soon reached the heights, and had the Rhone below
us on our right. By talking over some astronomical matters
•vfc shortened our road, and have taken up om- abode here
with some very worthy people, who are doing theii' best to
entertain us. AMien we think over what we have gone
through, so busy a day, with its many incidents and sights,
seems almo.st equal to a whole week. I begin to be quite
Sony that I have neither time nor talent to sketch at least
the outlines of the most remarkable objects ; for that would
be much better for the absent than all descriptions.

Scytcrs, Nov. 9, 1779.
Before we set out I can just bid you good morning. The
Count is going with me to the mountains on the left, towards
Vol. II. p

210 LETTERS from: SWITZERLAND.

Leukerbad; om* friend will, in the meantime, stay here with
the horses, and join us to-morrow at Leuk.

Leukerbad, Nov. 9, 1779.
At the Foot of Mount Gemmi.

In a little wooden house where we have been friendlily
received by some very worthy people, we are sitting in a
small, low room, and trying how much of to-day"s highly
interesting tour can be communicated in words. Starting
from Se}i;ers very early we proceeded for three leagues up the
mountains, after having passed large districts laid waste by
the mountain torrents. One of these sti-eams will suddenly
rise and desolate an extent of many miles, covering with
fragments of rock and gravel the fields, meadows, and gardens,
which (at least wherever possible) the people laboriously set
to work to clear, in order within two generations, perhaps, to
be again laid waste. We have had a grey day, with every
now and then a glimpse of sunshine. It is impossible to
describe how infinitely variegated the Valais here again
becomes ; the landscape bends and changes every moment.
Looking aroimd you all the objects seem to lie close together,
and yet they are separated by great ravines and hills. Gene-
rally we had had the open part of the valley below us, on the
right, when suddenly we came upon a spot which commanded
a most beautiful view over the mountains.

In order to render more clear what it is I am attempting to
describe, I must say a few words on the geographical position
of the district in which we are at present. We had now for
three hours been ascending the moimtainous region which
separates Yalais from Berne. This is. in fact, the great track
of mountains which runs in one continuous chain from the
Lake of Geneva to Mount S. Gothard, and on which, as it
passes tlirough Berne, rest the gi'eat masses of ice and snow.
Here above and beloiv ai'C but the relative terms of the moment.
I say, for instance, beneath me lies a village — and in all pro-
bability the level on which it is built is on a precipitous
summit, which is far higher above the valley below, than I am
above it.

As we turned an angle of the road and rested awhile at a
hermitage, we saw beneath us, at the end of a lovely green

INDEX THE GEMMI. 211

meadowland, which stretched along the brink of an enor-
mous chasm, the village of Inden, Av-ith its white church
exactly in the middle of the landscape, and buut altogether
on the slope of the hill-side. Beyond the chasm another line
of meadow lands and pine forests went upwards, while right
behind the village a vast cleft in the rocks ran up the sum-
mit. On the left hand the mountains came right do^Aii to
us, while those on our right stretched far away into the
distance, so that the little hamlet, with its white church,
formed as it were the focus towards which the many rocks,
ra^'iJles, and moimtains all converged. The road to luden is
cut out of the precipitous side of the rock, which, on your
left going to the ■sillage, lines the amphitheatre. It is not
dangerous although it looks frightful enough. It goes dovm
on the slope of a rugged mass of rocks, separated from the
yawning abyss on the right, by nothing but a few poor
planks. A peasant with a mule, who was descending at the
same time as om'selves, whenever he came to any dangerous
points caught his beast by the tau, lest the steep descent
shoiüd cause him to slip, and roll into the rocks below. At
last we reached Inden. As oiu' gidde was weU kno's\Ti there, he
easily managed to obtain for us, from a good-natmed dame,
some bread and a glass of red wine, for in these parts there
are no regular inns.

We now ascended the high ravine behind Inden, where we
soon saw before us the Gemmiberg (of which we had heard
such frightful descriptions), with Leukerbad at its foot, lying
between two lofty, inaccessible, snow-covered mountains, as
if it were in the hoUow of a hand. It was thi-ee o'clock,
nearly, when we arrived there, and our guide soon procured
us lodgings. There is properly no inn even here, but in con-
sequence of the many -s-isitors to the baths at this place, all
people have good accommodations. Om- hostess had been
put to bed the day before, but her husband with an old
mother and a servant girl, did very creditably the honom's of
the house. We ordered something to eat, and v/ent to see
the wann springs, which in several places bmst out of the
earth with great force, and are received in very clean
reservoü's. Out of the village, and more towards the moun-
tains, there are said to be still stronger ones. The water has
not the slightest smell of sulphm-, and neither at its som-ce

p 2

212 LETTEKS FEOM SAVITZEELAXD.

nor in its channel does it make the least deposit of ochre or
of any other earth or mineral, but like any other clear spring
■water it leaves not the slightest trace behind it. As it comes
out of the earth it is extremely hot, and is famous for its good
qualities. "NVe had still time for a walk to the foot of the
Gemmi, which appeared to us to be at no great distance. I
must here repeat a remark that has been made so often
already; that when one is sun-ounded with mountain scenery
all objects appear to be extremely near. We had a good
league to go, amongst fragments of rock which had fallen from
the heights, and over gravel brought down by the torrents,
before we reached the foot of the Gemmi, where the road
ascends along the precipitous crags. This is the only pass
into the canton of Berne, and the sick have to be transported
along it in sedan chairs.

If the season did not bid lis hasten onwards, in. all proba-
bility we might make an attempt to-mon-ow to ascend this
remarkable mountain; as it is, however, we must content
ourselves with the simple view of it. On om* retm-n we saw
the clouds brewing, which in these parts is a highly interesting
sight. The fine weather we have hitherto enjoyed has made
us forget almost entirely that it is in November that we are ;
besides too, as they foretold us in Berne, the autumn here is
very delightful. The short days, however, and the clouds
which tkreaten snow, warn us how late it is in the year. The
strange drift which has been agitating them this evening was
singvdarly bcautifid. As we came back from the foot of the
Gemmi, we saw light mists come up the ravine from Inden,
and move with great rapidity. They continually changed
their dii'ection, going now forwards, now backwards, njid at
•last, as they ascended, they came so near to Leukerbad that
■we saw clearly that we must double our steps if we woidd not
before nightfall be enveloped in the clouds. We reached our
quarters, however, without accident, and whilst I A\Tite this it
is snowing in earnest. This is the first fall of snow that we
have yet had, and when Ave call to mind our warm ride
yesterdav, from Martinach to Sion, beneath the vine-arbours,
which were still pretty thick with leaves, the change does
appear sudden indeed. I have been standing some time at
the door, observing the character and look of the clouds,
which are beautiful beyond description. It is not yet night,

LEt'KEKBAD. 213

but at intervals the clouds veil the whole sky aud make it
quite dai-k. They rise out of the deep ravines until they reach
the highest summits of the mountains ; attracted by these they
appear to thicken, and being condensed by the cold they fall
down in the shape of snow. It gives you an inexpressible
feeling of loneliness to find yom'self here at this height, as it
were, in a sort of well, fi-om which you scarcely can suppose
that there is even a footpath to get out by. except down the
precipice before you. The clouds which gather here in this
valley, at one time completely hiding the immense rocks,
and absorbing them in a waste impenetrable gloom, or at ano-
ther letting a part of them be seen Hke huge spectres, give to
the people a cast of melancholy. In the midst of such
natm-al phenomena the people are full of presentiments and
forebodings. Clouds — a phenomenon remarkable to everj*
man fi-om his youth up — are, in the plain coimtries. generally
looked upon at most as something foreign — something super-
teiTestrial. People regai'd them as strangers, as birds of
passage, which, hatched vmder a different climate, visit this
or that countrj- for a moment or two in passing — as splendid
pieces of tapestry wherewith the gods part off their pomp and
splendour from hujuan eyes. But here, where they are
hatched, man is inclosed in them from the very first, and the'
eternal and intrinsic energy- of his nature feels itself at every
ners'c moved to forebode and to indulge in presentiments.

To the clouds, which, with us even produce these effects,
we pay little attention: moreover as they are not pushed so
thickly and dii'ectly before our eyes, their economy is the
more difficult to observe. With regard to all such phenomena
one's only wish is to dwell on them for a while, and to be
able to tarry several days in the spots where they are observ-
able. If one is fond of such observations the desire becomes
the more vivid the more one reflects that every season of the
year, every hour of the day, and eveiy change of weather
produces new phenomena which we little looked for. And as
no man, not even the most ordinar^• character, was ever a
"witness, even for once, of great and unusual events, without
their leading behind in his soul some traces or other, and
making him feel himself also to be greater for this one little
shred of grandem*, so that he is never wears' of telhng the
whole tale of it over again , and has gained at auv rate a little

214 LETTERS FROM SWITZERLA^"D.

treasure for his whole life ; just so is it with the man who has
seen and become familiar with the grand phenomena of nature.
He who manages to preserve these impressions, and to combine
them with other thoughts and emotions, has assuredly a trea-
sury of sweets wherewith to season the most tasteless parts of
life, and to give a pervading relish to the whole of existence.

I observe that in my notes I make very little mention of
human beings. Amid these grand objects of nature, they are
but little worthy of notice, especially where they do but come
and go. I doubt not but that on a longer stay avo should
meet with many worthy and interesting people. One fact I
think I have everywhere observed; the farther one moves
from the highroad and the busy marts of men, the more
people are shnt in by the mountains, isolated and confined to
the simplest wants of life, the more they draw their main-
tenance from simple, humble, and unchangeable pursuits : so
much the better, the more obliging, the more friendly, unsel-
fish, and hospitable are they.

Lcuherlad, Nov. 10, 1779.
We are getting ready by candle-light, in order to descend
the moxmtain again as soon as day breaks. I have had
rather a restless night. Scarcely had I got into bed before I
felt as if I was attacked all over with the nettle rash. I soon
found, however, that it was a swarm of crawling insects, who,
ravenous of blood, had fallen upon the new comer. These
insects breed in great numbers in these wooden houses. The
night appeared to me extremely long, and I was heartily glad
when in the morning a light was brought in.

Lenk., about 10 o'clock.
We have not much time to spare ; however, before we set
out, I will give you an account of the remarkable breaking up
of om- company, which has here taken place, and also of the
cause of it. We set out from Leukerbad with daybreak this
morning, and had to make om- way over the meadows through
the fresh and slippery snow. We soon came to Inden. where,
leaving above us on our right the precipitous road which we
came down yesterday, we descended to the meadow lands

LEL'K. 215

along the ra'sine whicii now lav on oui- left. It is exti-emely
wild and overgi'own with trees, but a very tolerable road runs
down into it. Tlirough the clefts in the rock the water which
comes down from Leukerbad has its outlets into the Valais.
High up on the side of the liill, which yesterday we descended,
we saw an aqueduct skilfully cut out of the rock, by which a
little stream is conducted from the movmtain, then thi-ough a
hoUow into a neighbouring village.

Next we had to ascend a steep height, from which we soon
saw the open country of Valais, ■with the dirty town of Valais
lying beneath us. These little towns are mostly stuck on the
hiU sides ; the roofs inelegantly covered with coarsely split
planks, which within a year become black and overgrown with
moss ; and when you enter them, you are at once disgusted,
for everything is dii't^- ; want and hardship are evcrj-where
apparent among these highly privileged and free burghers.

We foimd here our friend, who brought the unfavourable
report that it was beginning to be injudicious to proceed
further ■v^dth the horses. The stables were everyn'here small
and naiTow, being built only for mules or sumpter horses ;
oats too were rarely to be procured ; indeed he was told that
higher up among the mountains there were none to be had.
Accordingly a council was held. Our fi-iend 'svith the horses
was to descend the Valais and go by Bee, Bevay, Lausanne,
Freibtirg, and Berne, to Lucerne, while the Coimt and I
pursued our course up the Valais, and endeavoured to pene-
trate to Mount Gotthard, and then through the Canton of
Uri, and by the lake of the Forest Tomtis, likewise make for
Lucerne. In these parts you may anywhere procm-e mules,
which are better suited to these roads than horses, and to go
on foot invariably proves the most agreeable in the end. Our
friend is gone, and our portmanteaus packed on the back of
a mule, and so we are now ready to set oiF and make our
way on foot to Brieg. The sky has a motlev appearance,
still I hope that the good luck which has hitherto attended
us, and attracted us to this distant spot, will not abandon lis
at the very point where we have the most need of it.

216 IiETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND.

Brieg, Nov. 10, 1779.
Evening.

Of to-day's expedition I have little to tell you, unless you
■would like to be entertained with a long circumstantial account
of the weather. About 11 o'clock we set off from Leuk., in
company with a Suabian butcher's boy, who had I'un away
hither, and had found a place where he served somewhat in
the capacity of Hanswm-tit (Jack-Pudding), and with our
luggage packed on the back of a mule, which its master was
dri^-ing before him. Behind us, as far as the eye coiüd reach,
thick snow clouds, which came dri\"ing up the lowlands,
covered everything. It had really a threatening aspect. With-
out expressing my fears I felt anxious lest, even though right
before us it looked as clear as it could do in the land of
Goshen, the clouds might nevertheless overtake us, and here,
perhaps in the territory of the Yalais, shut in on both sides
by momitains, we might be covered with the clovids, and in
one night snowed up. Thus Avhispered alarm which got
possession almost entirely of one ear ; at the other good
corn-age was sjieakiug in a confident tone, and reproving me
for M'ant of faith, kept reminding me of the past, and called
my attention to the phenomena of the atmosphere before
us. Our road went continually on towards the fine weather.
Up the Rhone all was clear, and as a strong west wind kept
di-iviug the clouds behind us, it was little likely that they
would reach us.

The following was the cause of this. Into the valley of
Valais there are, as I liaye so often remarked already, many
ravines running do^^^l from the neighbouring mountain-
chains, which fall into it like little brooks into a gix-at stream,
as indeed all their waters flow off into the Rhone. Out of
each of these openings rushes a current of wind, which has
been foiming in the inner valleys and nooks of the rocks.
^Mien now the jDrincipal drift of the clouds up the valley
reaches one of these ravines, the current of the wind does
not allow the clouds to pass, but contends with them, and
with the wind which is di-iving them, and thus ("ictains them,
and disputes with them for whole hours the passage up the
valley. This conflict we often witnessed, and when we be-
lieved we should surely be overtaken by the clouds, an ob-
stacle of this kind would again arise, and after we had ffone

BKTEG. 217

a s^ood league, we found they had scarcely stin-ed from the
spot.

Towards evening the sky was uncommonly beautiful. As
we arrived at Brieg, the clouds got there almost as soon as
we did ; however, as the sun had set, and a driving east
■vvind blew against them, they were obliged to come to a
halt, and formed a huge crescent from mountain to moim-
tain across the valley. The cold air had greatly condensed
them, and where theii- edge stood out against the blue sky, it
presented to the eye many beautiful, light, and elegant foinns.
It was quite clear that they were heavy with snow; however,
the fresh air seemed to us to promise that much woidd not
fall during the night.

Here we are in a very comfortable inn, and what greatly
tends to make us contented, we have found a roomy chamber
with a stove in it, so that we can sit by the fire-side and take
counsel together as to om- future travels. Tlirough Brieg
rims the usual road to Italy over the Simplon ; shoiüd we,
therefore, give xip our plan of going over the Furca to Mont
S. Gothard, we shall go with hhed horses and mules to Domo
d'Ossula, Margozro, pass up Lago Maggiore, and then to
Bellinzoua, and then on to S. Gotthard, and over Airolo to
the monastery of the Capuchins. This road is passable all
the winter thi-ough, and is good travelling for horses ; how-
ever, to our minds it is not very inviting, especially as it
was not in our original plan, and will not bring us to Lucerne
till five days after our friend. We wish rather to see the
whole of the Valais iip to its extreme limit, whither we hope
to come by to-morrow evening, and, if fortune favoui's, we
shall be sitting by about the same time next day in Realp, in
the canton of Uri, which is on Mont Gotthard, and very
near to its highest simimit. If we then find it impossible to
cross the Furca, the road back to this spot wUl still be open
to us, and then we can take of necessity the route which of
free choice we are disinclined to.

You can well believe that I have here closely examined the
people, whether they believe that the passage over the Furca
is open, for that is the one idea with which I rise up, and lie
do-vvn to sleep, and occupy myself all day long. Hitherto
our route may be compared to a march to meet an enemy,
and now it is as if we were approaching to the spot where

218 lETTEES FROM SWITZEKLAND.

he has entrenched himself, and vre must give him battle.
Besides om- mule two horses are ordered to be ready by the
evenins:.

Munster, Nov. 11, 1779.
Evening, 6 o'clock.
Again we have had a pleasant and prosperous day. This
morning as we set out early and in good time from Brieg
our host, when we were ah-eady on the road said, " If the
mountain (so they call the Furca here,) should prove too
fearful, you can easily come back and take another route."
"With our two horses and mule we soon came upon some
pleasant meadows, where the valley becomes so uan-ow that
it is scarcely some gun-shots ^vide. Here are some beautiful
pasture lands, on which stand large trees, while pieces of
rock He scattered about which have rolled down from the
neighbouring mountains. The vaUey gradually grows nar-
rower, and the traveller is forced to ascend along the side of
the mountain, having the while the Rhone below him in a
rugged ravine on his left. Above him, however, the land is
beautifully spread out ; on the variously undulating hills are
verdant and rich meadows and pretty hamlets, which, with
their dark-brown wooden houses, peep out prettily from
among the snow. "We travelled a good deal on foot, and we
did so in turns to accommodate one another. For although
riding is safe enough, still it excites one's alarm to see
another riding before you along so narrow a track, and on so
weak an animal, and just on the brink of so ragged a preci-
pice ; and as too there are no cattle to be seen on the mea-
dows, (for the people here shut them all up in sheds at this
season,) such a region looks lonely, and the thought that
one is continually being hemmed in closer and closer by the
vast moimtains, fills the imagination with sombre and chsa-
greeable fancies, enough to make you fall from yoiu* seat,
if you are not very finn in the saddle. INIan is never perfectly
master of himself. As he lives in utter ignorance of the
ftiture, as indeed what the next moment may bring forth is
hidden from him, consequently, when an}i:hing imusual falls
beneath his notice, he has often to contend with involuntary
sensations, forebodings, and dream-hke fancies, at which

IHE LEGEND OF S. ALEXIS. 219

shortly afterwards he may laugh outright, but which at the
decisive moment are often extremely oppressive.

In our noonday quarters we met vrith. some amusement.
We had taken up our lodgings with a woman in whose house
everything looked neat and orderly. Her room, after the
fashion of the country, was wainscotted, the beds ornamented
with carving: the cupboards, tables, and all the other Kttle
repositories which were fastened against the walls or to the
comers, had prettv ornaments of turner's work or carving.
From the portraits which hung around the room, it was easy
to see that several members of the family had devoted them-
selves to the clerical profession. "We also observed a collec-
tion of bound books over the door, which we took to be the
endo^vment of one of these reverend personages. We took
do-wn the Legends of the Saints, and read it while om- meal
was prepaiing. On one occasion of our hostess entering the
i-oom. she asked us if we had ever read the histoiy of S.
Alexis r We said no, and took no further notice of her
question, but went on reading the chapter we each had
begun. "\Mien, however, we had sat down to table, she
placed herself by our sides, and began again to talk of
S. Alexis. We asked her whether he was the patron saint of
herself, or of her family; which she denied, affiiining at the
same time, however, that this saintly person had undergone
so much for the love of God, that his history always affected
her more than any others. ^Mien she saw that we knew
nothing about him, she began to narrate to us his history.
" S. Alexis," she said, " was the son of noble, rich, and
God-fearing parents in Rome, and in the practice of good
works he dehghted to follow their example, for they did
extraordinaiy good to the poor. All tliis, however, did not
appear enough to Alexis: but secretly in his own heart he
devoted himself entirely to God's service, and took a vow to
Christ of perpetual virginity. ^Mien, then, in the course
of time, his parents wished to mam' him to a lovely and
amiable maiden, he did not oppose their will, ^^^len, how-
ever, the manüage ceremony was concluded, instead of retiring
to his bed in the nuptial chamber, he went on board a vessel
which he found ready to sail, and M-ith it passed over to Asia.
Here he assumed the garb of a wretched mendicant, and
became thereby so thoroughly disguised that the servants of

220 LETTERS FEOir SAVITZERLAND.

his father who had been sent after him failed to recognise
him. Here he posted himself near the door of the principal
chm'ch, invariably attending the divine services, and sup-
porting himself on the alms of the faithful. After two or
three years various miracles took place, betokening the special
favour of the Almighty. The bishop heard a voice in the
church, bidding him to summon into the sacred temple that
man whose prayer was most acceptable to God, and to keep
him by his side while he celebrated divine worship. As the
bishop did not at once Icnow who could be meant, the voice
went on to point out to him the beggar, whom, to the great
astonishment of the people, he immediately fetched into the
church. The saintly Alexis, embarrassed by having the
attention of the people directed towards himself, quietly and
silently departed thence, also on ship-board, intending to
proceed still further in foreign lands. But by a tempest and
other circumstances he was compelled to land in Italy. The
saint seeing in all this the finger of God, was rejoiced to meet
■with an opportunity of exercising self-denial in the highest
degree. He therefore set off direct for his native town, and
placed himself as a beggar at the door of his parents' house.
With their usual pious benevolence did they receive him, and
commanded one of their servants to furnish him with lodging
in the castle and with all necessary sustenance. This servant,
amioyed at the trouble he was put to, and displeased with his
master's benevolence, assigned to this seeming beggar a
miserable hole under some stone steps, where he threw to him,
as to a dog, a soiTy pittance of food. The saint instead of
suffering himself to be vexed thereat, first of all thanked God
sincerely for it in his heart, and not only bore with patient
meekness all this which he might easily have altered, but with
incredible and superhuman fortitude, endured to witness the
lasting grief of his parents and his wife for his absence.
For he heard his much-loved parents and his beautiful spouse
invoke his name a hundred times a day, and pray for his
return, and he saw them Avasting their days in sorrow for his
supposed absence." At this passage of her narrative oui*
good hostess could not refrain her tears, while her two daugh-
ters, who during the story had crept close to her side, kept
steadily looking up in their mother's face. "But," she con-
tinued, " great was the reward which the Almighty bestowed

THE LEGEXD OF S. ALEXIS. 221

on his constancy, giving liim, at his death, the greatest pos-
sible proofs of his favour in the eyes of the faithful. For
after living several years in this state, daily fi-equenting the
service of God with the most fervent zeal, he at last fell sick,
without any particular heed being given to his condition by
any one. One morning shortly after this, while the pope was
himself celebrating high mass, in presence of •the emperor and
all the nobles, suddenly all the bells in the whole city of Rome
began to toll as if for the passing knell of some distinguished
personage. "SVliilst every one was full of amazement, it was
revealed to the pope that this man-el was in honour of the
death of the holiest person in the whole city, who had but
just died in the house of the noble Patrician. — The father
of Alexis being interrogated, thought at once of the beggar.
He went home and found him beneath the stairs quite dead.
In his folded hands the saintly man clutched a paper, which
his old father sought in vain to take from him. He ret^JJ-ned
to the church and told all this to the emperor and the pope,
who thereupon, with their coui-tiers and clergy, set off to
visit the corpse of the saint. ^Mien they reached the spot,
the holy father took it without difficulty out of the hands of
the dead man, and handed it to the emperor, who thereupon
caused it to be read aloud by his chancellor. The paper con-
tained the history of the saint. Then yo\i should have seen
the grief of his parents and wife, which now became excessive,
to think that they had had near to them a son and husband
so dear: for whom there was nothing too good that they
would not have done ; and then too to know how ill he had
been treated ! They fell upon his corjjse and wept so bitterly
that there was not one of the bystanders who could refrain
from tears. Moreover, among the multitude of the people
who gradually flocked to the spot, there were many sick, who
were brought to the body and by its touch were made
whole."

Our fair story-teller affirmed over and over again, as she
dried her eyes, that she had never heard a more touching
history, and I too was seized ^^'ith so great a desire to weep
that I had the greatest difficulty to hide and to suppress it.
After dinner I looked out the legend itself in Father Cochem,
and found that the good dame had ckopped none of the purely

222 LETTERS PROM SWITZERLAND.

human traits of the story, while she had clean forgotten all
the tasteless remarks of this writer.

We keep going continually to the window watching the
weather; and are at present very near offering a prayer to
the winds and clouds. Long evenings and universal stillness
ai"e the elements in which writing thrives right merrily, and I
am convinced that if, for a few months only, I could contrive,
or were obliged, to stay at a spot like this, all my unfinished
di'amas would of necessity be completed one after another.

AVe have already had several people before us, and questioned
them with regard to the pass over the Fm-ca ; but even here
we have been unable to gain any precise information, although
the mountain is only two or three leagues distant. We must,
however, rest contented, and we shall set out oiu-selves at break
of day to reconnoitre, and see how destiny will decide for us.
However, in general, I may be disposed to take things as they
go, it woiüd, I mvist confess, be highly annoying to me if we
should be forced to retrace our steps again. If we are fortu-
nate we shall be by to-morrow evening at Realj) or S,
Gotthard, and by noon the next day among the Capuchins at
the summit of the moimtain. If things go unfortimately we
have two roads open for a retreat. Back through the whole
of Valais, and by the well-known road over Berne to Lucerne;
or back to Brieg, and then by a wide detoirr to S. Gotthard.
I think in this short letter I have told you that three times.
But in fact it is a matter of great importance to us. The
issue will decide which was in the right, our courage, which
gave us a confidence that we must succeed, or the prudence of
certain persons who were very earnest in trying to dissuade
us from attempting this route. This much, at any rate, is
certain, that both prudence and courage must o\ati chance to
be over them both. And now that we have once more
examined the weather, and found the air to be cold, the sky
bright, and without any signs of a tendency to snow, we shall
go cahnly to bed.

Munster, Nov. 12, 1776.
Early. 6 o'clock.
We are quite ready, and all is packed up in order to set
out from hence with the break of day. We have before us

THE PASSAGE OF THE FUKCA. 223

two leagues to Oberwald, and from there the usual reckoning
makes six leagues to Realp. Om^ mule is to foUow us with
the baggage as far as it is possible to take him.

Realp, Nov. 12, 1779.
Eveyiing.
We reached this place just at nightfall. We have sur-
mounted all difficulties, and the knots which entangled oiu*
path have been cut in two. Before I tell you where we are
lodged, and before I describe to you the character of our
hosts, allow me the gratification of going over in thought the
road that we did not see before us without anxiety, and which,
however, we have left behind us without accident, though not
without difficulty. About seven we started from Mimster,
and saw before us the snow- covered amphitheatre of mountain
summits, and took to be the Furca, the mountain which in
the background stood obHquely before it. But as we after-
wards learned, we made a mistake; it was concealed from
our \ievf by the moimtains on oiu- left and by high clouds.
The east wind blew strong and fought with some snow-clouds,
chasing the di-ifts, now over the mountains, now up the valley.
But this only made the snow drifts deeper on the ground, and
caused us several times to miss our way ; although shut in as
we were on both sides, we could not fail of reaching Oberwald
eventually. About nine we actually got there, and dropping
in at an auberge, its inmates were not a little surprised to
see such characters appearing there this time of the year.
We asked whether the pass over the Furca were still practi-
cable, and they answered that their folk crossed it for the
greater part of the A^dnter, but whether we should be able to
get across they could not tell. We immediately sent to seek
for one of these persons as a guide. There soon appeared a
strong thick-set peasant, whose very look and shape inspired
confidence. With him we immediately began to treat: if he
thought the pass was practicable for us, let him say so ; and
then take one or more comrades and come with us. After a
short pause he agreed, and went away to get ready himself
and to fetch the others. In the meantime we paid our
muleteer the hire of his beast, since we coiild no longer make
any use of his mule; and having eaten some bread and cheese

224 liETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND.

and drank a glass of red wine, felt full of strength and spirits,
as onr guide came back, Ibllowed by another man who looked
still bigger and stronger than himself, and seeming to have all
the strength and courage of a horse, he quickly shouldered our
portmanteau. And now we set out, a p.arty of five, through
the village, and soon reached the foot of the mountain, which
lay on our left, and began gradually to ascend it. At first we
had a beaten track to follow which came down from a neigh-
bouring Alp; soon, however, this came to an end, and we
had to go up the mountain side through the snow. Our
guides, with great skill, tracked their way among the rocks,
around which the usual path winds, although the deep and
smooth snow had covered all alike. Next our road lay
thi'ough a forest of pines, while the Rhone flowed beneath us
in a narrow unfruitful valley. Into it we also, after a little
while, had to descend, and by crossing a little foot-bridge we
came in sight of the glacier of the Rhone. It is the hugest
we have as yet had so full a view of. Of very great breadth,
it occupies the whole saddle of the mountain, and descends
uninterruptedly down to the point where, in the valley, the
Rhone flows out of it. At this source the people tell us it
has for several years been decreasing ; but that is as nothing
compared Avith all the rest of the huge mass. Although
everything was full of snow, still the rough crags of ice, on
which the wind did not allow the snow to lie, were visible
with their glass blue fissures, and you could see clearly where
the glacier ended and the snow-covered rock began. To this
point, which lay on our left, we came very close. Presently
we again reached a light foot-bridge over a little mountain
stream, which flowed through a barren trough-shaped valley
to join the Rhone. After passing the glacier, neither on the
right, nor on the left, nor before you, Avas there a tree to be
seen, all was one desolate waste; no rugged and promment
rocks — nothing but long smooth valleys, slightly inclining
eminences, which now, in the .snow which levelled all inequa-
lities, presented to us their simple unbroken surfaces. Turning
now to the left we ascended a mountain, sinking at every
step deep in the snow. One of our guides had to go first,
and boldly treading down the snow break the way by which
we were to follow.

It was a strange sight, when turning for a moment your

THE PASSAGE OVER THE FUKCA. 225

attention from the road, you directed it to yourself and your
fellow travellers. In the most desolate region of the world,
in a boundless, monotonous wilderness of mountains enveloped
in snow, where for three leagues before and behind, you
would not expect to meet a living soul, while on both sides
you had the deep hollows of a web of mountains, you might
see a line of men wending their way, treading each in the
deep footsteps of the one before him, and where, in the
whole of the wide expanse thus smoothed over, the eye
could discern nothing but the track they left behind them.
The hollows as we left them lay behind us gray and bound-
less in the mist. The changing clouds continually passed
over the pale disc of the sun, and spread over the whole
scene a perpetually moving veil. I am convinced that any
one who, while pursuing this route, allowed his imagination
to gain the mastery, would even, in the absence of all imme-
diate danger, fall a victim to his o\\ti apprehensions and
fears. In reality, there is little or no risk of a fall here; the
gi-eat danger is from the avalanches, Mheu the snow has be-
come deeper than it is at present, and begins to roll.
However our guide told us that they cross the mountains
throughout the winter, carrying from Valais to S. Gotthard
skins of the chamois, in which a considerable trade is here
carried on. But then to avoid the avalanches, they do not
take the route that 'we did, but remain for some time longer
in the broad valley, and then go straight up the mountain.
This road is safer, but much more inconvenient. After a march
of about three hours and a-half, we reached the saddle of the
Furca, near the cross which marks the boundary of Valais
and Uri. Even here we could not distinguish the double
peak from which the Fiu-ca derives its name. We now
hoped for an easier descent, but our guides soon announced
to us still deeper snow, as we immediately found it to be.
Our march continued in single file as before, and the fore-
most man who broke the path often sank up to his waist in
the snow. The readiness of the people, and their light way
of speaking of matters, served to keep up our courage ; and
I will say, for myself, that I have accomplished the journey
without fatigue, although I cannot say that it was a mere
walk. The huntsman Hemiann asserted that he had often
before met with equally deep snow in the forests of Thu-
Yoi.. II. Q

226 LETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND.

ringia, but at last he could not help bui-sting out with a loud
exclamation, "The Furca is a ."

A vultiu-e or lanimergeier swept over oiu" heads with
incredible rapidity : it was the only li\-ing thing that we had
met with in this waste. In the distance we saw the moun-
tains of the Ursi lighted up with the bright sunshine. Our
guides ^^■ished to enter a shepherd's hut which had been
abandoned and snowed up, and to take something to eat, but
we urged them to go onwards, to aA^oid standing still in the
cold. Here again is another groupe of valleys, and at last we
gained an open view into the valley of the Ursi.

We now proceeded at a shorter pace, and after travelling
about three leagues and a-half from the Cross, we saw the
scattered roofs of llealp. We had several times questioned
cm* guides as to what sort of an inn, and what kind of wine
we were Kkely to find in Realp. The hopes they gave us
were anything but good, but they assured us that the
Capuchins there, although they had not, Hke those on the
summit of S. Gotthard, an hospice, were in the habit of
entertaining strangers. With them we should get some good
red ■nine, and better food than at an inn. We therefore
sent one of our party forwards to infonn the Capuchins of our
arrival, and to procm-e a lodging for us. We did not loiter
long behind, and arrived very soon after him, when we were
received at the door by one of the fathers — a portly, good-
looking man. With much friendliness of manner he invited
us to enter, and at the threshold begged that we would put up
with such entertainment they could alone offer, as at no time
and least of all at this season of the year, were they prepared
to receive such guests. He therefore led us into a warm
room, and was very dihgent in waiting upon us, while we
took off om* boots, and changed om* linen. He begged us
once for all to make ourselves perfectly at home. As to our
meat, we must, he said, be indulgent, for they were in the
middle of their long fast, which would last till Christmas-day.
We assured him that a warm room, a bit of bread, and a glass
of red vrine would, in our present circumstances, fullv satisfy'
all our wishes. He procured us what we asked for, and we had
scarcely refreshed ourselves a little, ere he began to recount to
us aU that concerned the establishment, and the settlement of
himself and fellows on this waste spot. "We have not,"' he

THE CAPUCHIKS AT REALP. 227

said, " an hospice like the fathers on ]Mont S. Gotthai-d, —
we are here in the capacity of parish priests, and there are
three of us. The duty of preaching falls to my lot ; the
second father has to look after the school, and the brother to
look after the household."' He ■went on to describe their
hardships and toils ; here, at the furthest end of a lonely
valley, separated from all the world, and working hard to
■very Httle profit. This spot, like all others, was formerly
pro%-ided with a secular priest, but an avalanche having
buried half of the village, the last one had run aAvay, and
taken the pix with him, whereupon he was suspended, and
they, of whom more resignation was expected, were sent
there in his place.

In order to -«Tite all this I had retired to an upper room,
which is warmed from below by a hole in the floor; and I
have just received an intimation that dinner is ready, which,
notwithstanding our luncheon, is right welcome news.

About 9.
The fathers, priests, servants, guides and all, took
their dinner together at a common table; the brother, how-
ever, who superintended the cooking, did not make his
appearance till dinner was nearly over. Out of milk, eggs,
and flour he had compounded a variety of dishes, which we
tasted one after another, and found them all very good. Our
guides, who took a great pleasure in speaking of the suc-
oessfal issue of our expedition, praised us for our uncommon
dexterity in travelling, and assured us that it was not every
one that they would have imdertaken the task of being guides
to. They even confessed also that this morning, when theii-
services were required, one had gone first to reconnoitre, and
to see if we looked Hke peo])le who would reallv go throuo-h aU
difiiculties with them ; for they were particularly cautious how
they accompanied old or weak people at this time of the year,
since it was their duty to take over in safety- every one they had
once engaged to guide, being bound in case of his faUing'sick,
to oan-y him. even though it should be at the imminent risk
of their o>vn lives, and if he were to die on the passage, not to
leave his body behind. This confession at once opened the
flood-gates to a host of anecdotes, and each in turn had his
story to tell of the difiiciüties and dangers of wandering over

Q 2

228 XETTEKS FKOM SWITZEKXAND.

the mountains amidst which the people had here to live as iu
their proper element, so that with the greatest indifference
they speak of mischances and accidents to which they them-
selves are daily liable. One of them told a story of how, ou
the Candersteg, on his way to Mount Gemmi, he and a com-
rade with him (he is mentioned on everj- occasion with both
Christian and sur-name) found a poor family iu the deep
snow, the mother dying, her boy half dead, and the father iu
that state of indifference which verges on a total prostration
of intellect. He took the woman on his back, and his com-
rade her son, and thus laden, they had driven before them
the father, who was unwilling to move from the spot.

Dm'ing the descent of Gemmi the woman died ou his back,
but he brought her dead as she Avas to Leukerbad. When
w^e asked what sort of people they were, and what could have
brought them at such a season into the mountains, he said
they were poor people of the canton of Berne, who, driven
by want, had taken to the road at an unseasonable period of
the year, in the hope of finding some relations either in
Valais or the Italian canton, and had been overtaken by a
snow-stonn. Moreover, they told many anecdotes of what
had happened to themselves during the winter journeys over
the Furca with the chamois-skins, on which expeditions,
however, they always travelled iu companies. Every now
and then our reverend host would make excuses for the
dinner, and we redoubled our assurances that we wished for
nothing better. We also found that he contrived to bring
back the conversation to himself and his own matters,
observing that he had not been long in this place. He began
to talk of the office of preaching, and of the dexterity that a
preacher ought to have. He compared the good preacher to
a chapman who cleverly puffs his wares, and by his pleasant
words makes himself agreeable to his customers. After
dinner he kept up the conversation, and, as he stood with his
left hand leaning on the table, he accompanied his remarks
with his right, and while he discom-sed most eloquently ou
eloquence, appeared at the moment as if he wished to con-
vince us that he himself was the dexterous chapman. We
assented to his observations, and he came from the lecture to
the thing itself. He panegyrized the Roman Catholic reli-
gion. " We must," he said, " have a rule of faith ; and the great

THE CAPUCHIXS AT KEALP, 229

value of it consists in its being fixed, and as little liable as
possible to change, "We,"' he said, "had made Scriptui-e the
foundation of our faith, but it "was insufficient. We ourselves
Avould not venture to put it into the hands of common men ;
for holy as it is, and full as every leaf is of the Spii-it of God,
still the worldly-minded man is insensible of all this, and
finds rather perplexities and stumbling-blocks throughout.
"What good can a mere layman extract from the histories of
sinful men, which are contained therein, and which the Holy
Ghost has there recorded for the strengthening of the faith
of the tried and experienced children of God ? "\Miat benefit
can a common man draw from all this, when he is unable to
consider the whole context and connection: How is such a
pex'son to see his way clear out of the seeming contradictions
which occasionally occur? — out of the difficulties which arise
from the ill arrangement of the books, and the dilferences of
style, when the learned themselves find it so hard, and while
so many passages make them hold their reason in abeyance?
"What ought we therefore to teach : A rule of faith foimded
on Scripture, and proved by the best of commentaries? But
who then is to comment upon the Scripture ? "\Mio is to set
up this rule? I, perhaps, or some other man? By no
means. Every man has his ovrrx way of taldng and seeing
things, and represents them after his own ideas. That
woidd be to give to the people as many systems of doctrines
as there are are heads in the world, and to produce inex-
plicable confusion as indeed had already been done. No, it
remains for the Holy Church alone to interj^ret Scripture to
determine the rule of faith by which the souls of men are to
be guided and governed. And what is the church ? It is not
any single supreme head, or any particidar member alone.
No ! it is all the holiest, most learned, and most experienced
men of all times, who, with the co-operation of the Holy
Spirit, have successively combined together in building up
that great, imiversal,and agi-eeing body, which has its great
councils for its members to communicate their thoughts to
one another, and for mutual edification; which banishes eiTor,
and thereby imparts to our holy rehgion a certainty and
n stability such as no other profession can pretend to, and
gives it a foundation and strengthens it with bulwarks
which even hell itself cannot overthrow. And just so is it

230 LETTERS I'llOM SWITZERLAND.

also with the text of the sacred scriptures. We have," he
said, " the Vulgate, moreover an approved version of the
Vulgate, and of every sentence a commentary which the
church itself has accredited. Hence arises that unifonnity of
our teaching which surprises every one. Whether," he con-
tinued, " you hear me preaching in this most remote corner of
the world, or in the great capital of a distant country are
listening to the dullest or cleverest of preachers, all will hold
one and the same language; a Catholic Christian will always
hear the same doctrine ; everywhere will he be instructed and
edified in the same manner. And this it is which constitutes
the certainty of our faith; which gives us the peace and con-
fidence by which each one in life holds sure communion
with his brother Catholics, and at death can calmly part in
the sure hope of meeting one another again."

In his speech, as in a sermon, he let the subjects follow in
due order, and spoke more from an inward feeling of satisfac-
tion that he was exhibiting himself under a favourable aspect
than from any bigotted anxiety for conversion. During the
dehvery he would occasionally change the arm he rested upon,
or draw them both into the arms of his gown, or let them rest
on his portly stomach ; now and then he would, with much grace,
draw his snuff'-box out of his capote, and after using it
replace it with a careless ease. We listened to him atten-
tively, and he seemed to be quite content Avith our way of
receiving his instructions. How greatly amazed would he
have been if an angel had revealed to him, at the moment,
that he was addressmg his peroration to a descendant of
Frederick the Wise.

November 13, 1779.

Among the Capuchins, on the summit of Mont S. Gotthard,

Morning, about 10 o'clock.

At last we have fortunately reached the utmost limits of our

journey. Here it is determined we shall rest awhile, and

then turn our steps towards our dear fatherland. Very strange

are my feelings here, on this summit, where four years ago I

passed a few days with very diiferent anxieties, sentiments, plans,

and hopes, and at a very diiferent season of the year, when,

without any foreboding of my futm'e fortunes, but moved by

MOUNT S. GOTTHAKD. 231

I know not what, I turned my back upon Italy, and igno-
rantly went to meet my present destiny. I did not even
recognise the house again. Some time ago it was greatly
injured by an avalanche, and the good fathers took advantage
of this opportunity, and made a collection throughout the canton
for enlarging and improving theii* residence. Both of the
two fathers who reside here at present are absent, but, as I hear,
they are still the same that I met four years ago. Father
Seraphin, who has now passed fourteen years in this post is
at present at Milan, and the other is expected to-day from
Airolo. In this clear atmosphere the cold is a\N'fid. As soon
as dinner is over I wiU continue my letter ; for, I see clearly
we shaU. not so far outside the door.

After dinner.

It becomes colder and colder; one does not like to stii*
from the stove. Indeed it is most delightful to sit ujjon it,
which in this country, where the stoves are made of stone-
tiles, it is XQVj easy to do. First of all, therefore, we wiU
tell you of our departure from Eealp, and then of our journey
hither.

Yesterday evening before we retired to our beds, the good
father would shew us his sleeping cell, where everything was
in nice order, in a very small space. His bed, which con-
sisted of a bag of straw, M-ith a woollen coverlid, did not
appear to us to be anything very meritorious, as we om-selves
had often put up with no better. With great pleasure and
internal satisfaction he showed us everything — his bookcase
and all other things. We praised all that we saw, and part-
ing on the best tei-ms with each other, we retii'ed for the night.
In furnishing our room, in order that two beds might stand
against one wall, both had been made unusually small. This
inconvenience kept me long awake, until I thought of reme-
dying it by placing four chairs together. It was quite broad
daylight before we awoke this morning. When we went
down we found nothing but happy and friendly faces. Oiu:
guides, on the point of entering upon their return over yes-
terdays beautiful route, seemed to look upon it as an epoch,
and as a history with which hereafter they woidd be able to
entertain other strangers, and as they were weU paid the idea

232 LETTERS FROM SAVITZERLAND.

of an adventure became complete in their minds. After this
we made a capital breakfast and departed.

Our road now lay through the valley of the Uri, which is
remarkable as having, at so great an elevation, such beautiful
meadows and pasturage for cattle. They make here a cheese
which I prefer to all others. No trees, however, grow here.
Sally bushes line all the brooks, and on the mountains little
shrubs grow tliickly together. Of all the countries that I
know, this is to me the loveHest and most interesting, — whe-
ther it is that old recollections make it precious to me, or that
the perception of such a long chaiu of nature's wonders
excites within me a secret and inexpressible feeling of enjoy-
ment. I take it for granted that you bear in mind that the
whole country through which I am leading you is covered
with snow, and that rock and meadow alike are snowed over.
The sky has been quite clear, without a single cloud ; the
hue far deeper than one is accustomed to see in low and flat
countries, and the white mountain ridges, which stood out in
strong contrast to it, >vere either glittering in the sunshine,
or else took a greyish tint in the shade.

In a hour and a half we reached Hopital, — a little village
within the canton of Uri, which lies on the road to S. Gott-
hard. Here at last I regained the track of my former tour.
We entered an inn, and though it was as yet morning, or-
dered a dinner, and soon afterward began to ascend the sum-
mit. A long train of mules with their beUs enlivened the
whole region. It is a sound which awakens all one's recol-
lections of mountain scenery. The greater part of the train
was in advance of us, and Avith their sharp iron shoes had
pretty well cut up the smooth icy road. We also saw some
labovirers who were employed in covering the slij^peiy ice with
fresh earth, in order to render it passable. "J'he wish which I
formerly gave utterance to, that I might one day be per-
mitted to see this part of the world under snow, is now at
last gratified. The road goes ujd the Reuss as it dashes down
over rocks all the way, and forms everj' where the most beautiful
waterfalls. We stood a long while attracted by the singular
beauty of one which in considerable volume was dashing over a
succession of dark black rocks. Here and there in the cracks,
and on the flat ledges pieces of ice had formed, and the water
seemed to be running over a variegated black and white

MOUNT S. GOTTIIARD. 233

marble. Tlie masses of ice glistened like veins of crj-stal
in the sun, and the water flowed pure and fi-esh between
them.

On the mountains there is no more tiresome a fellow-
traveller than a train of mules ; they have so unequal a pace.
"With a strange instinct they always stop a while at the bot-
tom of a steep ascent, and then dash off at a quick ])ace up it,
to rest again at the top. Veiy often too they will stop at
the level spots which do occur now and then, until they are
forced on by the drivers or by other beasts coming up. And
so the foot passenger, by keeping a steady pace, soon gains
upon them, and in the narrow road has to push by them. If
you stand still a little while to observe any object, they in
their turn will pass by you, and you are pestered with the
deafening sound of their bells, and hard brushed with their
loads, which project to a good distance on each side of them.
In this way we at last reached the summit of the mountain,
which you can form some idea of by fancying a bald skuU
surrounded with a crown. Here one finds oneself on a per-
fect flat suiTOunded with peaks. Far and near the eye falls
on nothing but bare and mostly snow-covered peaks and
crags.

It is scarcely possible to keep oneself warm, especially as
they have here no fuel but brushwood, and of that too they
are obliged to be very- sparing, as they have to fetch it up the
mountains, fi-om a distance of at least three leagues, for at
the summit, they tell us, scarcely any kind of wood grows.
The reverend father is returned from Airolo, so frozen that on
his arrival he could scarcely utter a word. Although here
the Capuchins are allowed to clothe themselves a little more
comfortably than the rest of their order, still their style of
dress is by no means suited for such a climate as this. All
the \Aay up from Airolo the road was frozen perfectly smooth,
and he had the wind in his face ; his beard was quite frozen,
and it was a long while before he recovered himself. We
had some conversation together on the hardships of theii-
residence here ; he told us how they managed to get through
the year, their various occupations, and their domestic cir-
cumstances. He could speak nothing but Italian, and so we
had an opportimity of putting to use the exercises in this
language which we had taken during the spring. Towai'ds

234 LETTERS FK05I SAVITZEELAND.

evening; we went for a moment outside the house-door that the
good father might point out to us the peak which is considered
to be the highest summit of Mont Gotthard ; but we could
scarcely endure to stay out a veiy few minutes, so searching
and pinching was the cold. This time, therefore, we shall
remain close shut up within doors, and shall have time enough
before we start to-morrow, to travel again in thought over all
the most remarkable parts of this region.

A brief geographical description Avill enable you to under-
stand how remarkable the point is at which we are now
sitting. S. Gothard is not indeed the highest mountain of
Switzerland ; in Savoy. IVIont Blanc has a far higher elevation
and yet it maintains above aU others the rank of a king of
mountains, because all the great chains converge together
around him, and all rest upon him as their base. Indeed,
if I do not make a great mistake, I think I was told at Berne,
by Herr Wyttenbach, who, fi-om its highest summit, had seen
the peaks of all the others, that the latter all leaned towards
it. The moimtains of Schweitz and Unterwaiden, joined by
those of Uri range from the north, fi-om the east those of the
Grisons, from the south those of the Italian cantons, while
from the east, by means of the Furca, the double line of
mountains which enclose Yalais, presses upon it. Not far
from this house, there are two small lakes, one of which sends
forth the Ticino through gorges and valleys into Italy, while
fi"om the other, in like manner, the Reuss proceeds till it empties
itself in the Lake of the Forest towns.*' Not far from this
spot are the sources of the Rhine, which pursue an easterly
course, and if then we take in the Rhone which rises at the
foot of the Fm'ca and runs westward through Valais, we
shall find oiu'selves at the point of a cross, from which
momitaiu ranges and rivers proceed towaixls the fom- cardinal
points of heaven,

* Lake Lucerne.

TRAVELS IN ITALY.

AUCH IN ARCADIEN.

TRAVELS IN ITALY.

AUCH IN ARCADIEN.

FROM CARLSB.\D TO THE BRENNER.

September 3, 1786.
As early as 3 o'clock in the morning I stole out of Carlsbad,
for otherwise I should not have been allowed to depart quietly.
The band of friends who, on the 28th of August, rejoiced to
celebrate my birthday, had in some degree acquired a right
to detain me. However, it was impossible to stay here any
longer. Having packed a portmanteau merely, and a knap-
sack, I jiuuped alone into a post-chaise, and by half past 8,
on a beautifully cahn but foggy morning, I ai'rived at
Zevoda. The upper clouds were streaky and fleecy, the lower
ones heavy. This appeared to me a good sign. I hoped
that, after so wretched a summer, we should enjoy a tine
autumn. About 12, I got to Egra, under a warm and shining
Sim, and now, it occurred to me, that this place had the same
latitude as my own native to^vn, and it was a real pleasure to
me once more to take my midday meal beneath a bright sky,
at the fiftieth degree.

On entering Bavaria one comes at once on the monasteiy of
Waldsassen, with the valuable domain of the ecclesiastical lords,
who were wise sooner than other men. It lies in a dish-like,
not to say cauldron-like, hollow, in a beautiful wheat- ground,
inclosed on all sides by slightly ascending and fertile heights.
This cloister also possesses settlements ia the neighbom-ing
districts. The soil is decomposed slate-clay. The niiul,
which is found in this mineral formation, and which, as yet
undccomposed, slowly crumbles, makes the earth loose and
exti-cmely fertue. The land continues to rise until you come

238 XETTERS FEOM ITALY.

to Tirschenreuth, and the waters flow against you, to fall into
the Egra and the Elbe. From Tirschenreuth it descends
southwards, and the streams run towards the Danube. I can
form a pretty rapid idea of a country as soon as I loiow by
examination which way even the least brook runs, and can
determine the river to whose basin it belongs. By this means,
even in those districts which it is impossible to take a survey
of, one can, in thought, form a connection between lines of
mountains and valleys. From the last-mentioned place begins
an excellent road formed of granite. A better one cannot be
conceived, for, as the decomposed granite consists of gravelly
and argillaceous earths, they bind excellently together, and
form a solid foundation, so as to make a road as smooth as a
threshing floor. The country thi'ough which it runs looks so
much the worse ; it also consists of a granite-sand, lies very
flat and marshy, and the excellent road is all the more
desirable. And as, moreover, the roads descend gradually
from this plane, one gets on with a rapidity that strikingly
contrasts with the general snail's pace of Bohemian travelling.
The inclosed billet wiU give you the names of the different
stages. Suffice it to say, that on the second morning I was
at Ratisbon, and so I did these twenty-four miles* and a half
in thirty-nine hom-s. As the day began to dawn I found
myself between Schwondorf and Regenstauf, and I observed
here a change for the better in the cultivation of the land.
The soil was no longer the mere debris of the rock, but a
mixed alluvial deposit. The inundation by which it was
deposited must have been caused by the ebb and flood, from
the basin of the Danube into aU the valleys which at present
drain their water into it. In this way were formed the
natural boUs {poldet^), on which the tillage is carried on.
This remark applies to all lands in the neighboui-hood of large
or small streams, and with this guide any observer may form
a conclusion as to the soils suited for tillage.

Ratisbon is, indeed, beautifully situated. The country
could not but invite men to settle and build a city in it, and
the spiritual lords have shown their judgment. All the land

* A German mile is exactly equal to four English geographical, and
to rather more than four and a quarter ordinary miles. The distance in
the text may, therefore, be roughly set down as one hundred and four
iQÜes English. [A. J. W. M.]

EATISBON. 239

around the town belongs to them ; in the citj- itself churches
crowd churches, and monastic buildings are no less thick.
The Danube reminds me of the dear old Main. At Frank-
fort, indeed, the river and bridges have a better appearance ;
here, however, the view of the uoi-thern subm-b, Stadt-am-hof,
looks very pretty, as it lies before you across the river.

Immediately on my arrival I betook myself to the College
of the Jesuits, where the annual play was being acted by the
pupils. I saw the end of the opera, and the beginning of the
tragedy. They did not act worse than many an unexperienced
company of amateurs, and their dresses were beautiful, almost
too superb. This pubUc exhibition also served to convince
me still more strongly of the worldly prudence of the Jesidts.
They neglect notliing that is likely to produce an eifect, and
contrive to practise it with interest and care. In this there
is not merely prudence, such as we understand the term
abstractedly; it is associated with a real pleasure in the matter
in hand, a sympathy and a fellow feeling, a taste, such as arises
fi"om the experience of life. As this great society has among
its members organ builders, sculptors, and gilders, so assm-edly
there are some who pati'onise the stage with learning and
taste ; and just as they decorate their churches with appro-
priate ornaments, these clear-sighted men take advantage of
the world's sensual eye by an imposing theatre.

To-day I am wi-iting in latitude foi-tj^-nine degrees. The
weather promises fair, and even here the people complain of
the coldness and wet of the past summer. The morning was
cool, but it was the beginning of a glorious and temperate
day. The mild atmosphere which the mighty river brings
■with it is something quite peculiar. The fruits are nothing
very surprising. I have tasted, indeed, some excellent pears,
but I am longing for grapes and figs.

My attention is rivetted by the actions and principles of
the Jesuits. Their churches, towers, and buildings, have a
something gi-eat and perfect in their plan, which imposes all
beholders with a secret awe. In the decoration, gold, silver,
metal, and polished marble, are accumidated in such splen-
dour and profusion as must dazzle the beggars of all ranks.
Here and there one fails not to meet with something in bad
taste, in order to appease and to ath-act humanity. This is
the general character of the external ritual of the Roman

240 LETTEUS EROM ITALY.

Catholic Church ; never, however, have I seen it applied with
so much shrewdness, tact, and consistency, as among the
Jesuits. Here all tends to this one end ; unlike the members
of the other spiritual orders, they do not continue an old
worn-out ceremonial, but, humom'ing the spirit of the age,
continually deck it out with fresh pomp and splendour.

A rare stone is quarried here into blocks. In appearance
it is a species of conglomerate ; however, it must be held to
be older, more primary, and of a porphyritic nature. It is of
a greenish color, mixed with quartz, and is porous ; in it are
found large pieces of very solid jasper, in which, again, are
to be seen little round pieces of a kind of Breccia. A speci-
men would have been vciy instructive, and one could not help
longing for one ; the rock, however, was too solid, and I had
taken a vow not to load myself with stones on this journey.

Munich, September 6, 1786.

At half past 12, on the 5th of September, I set off for
Ratisbon. At Abbach the country is beautiful, while the
Danube dashes against limestone rocks as far as Saal. The
limestone, somewhat similar to that at Osteroda, on the
Hartz, close, but, on the whole, porous. By 6 a.m. I was in
Munich, and, after having looked about me for some twelve
hours, I will notice only a few points. In the Sculptm-e
Gallery I did not find myseK at home. I must practise my
eye fii-st of all on paintings. There are some excellent things
here. The sketches of Eeubens from the Luxembourg Gal-
lery caused me the greatest delight.

Here, also, is the rare toy, a model of Trajan's PiUar.
The material Lapis Lazuli, and the figures in gilt. It is, at
any rate, a rare piece of workmanship, and, in this light, one
takes pleasure in looking at it.

In the Hall of the Antiques I soon felt that my eye was
not ]nuch practised on such objects. On this account I was
unwilling to stay long there, and to waste my time. There
was much that did not take my fancy, without my being able
to say why. A Drusus attracted my attention ; two Anto-
nines pleased me, as also did a few other things. On the
whole, the arrangement of the objects was not happy, although
there is an evident attempt to make a display with them, and

MUNICH. — MITTELWALD. 241

the hall, or rather the museum, would have a good appearance
if it were kept in better repair and cleaner. In the Cabinet
of Natural History I saw beautiful things fi'om the Tyrol,
which, in smaller specimens, I was ah-eady acquainted with,
and, indeed, possessed.

I was met by a woman with figs, which, as the first, tasted
delicious. But the fruit in general is not good considering
the latitude of forty-eight degrees. Every one is complaining
here of the wet and cold. A mist, which might well be called
a rain, overtook me this morning early before I reached
Munich. Throughout the day the wind has continued to
blow cold from off the Tyrolese mountains. As I looked
towards them from the tower I found them covered, and the
whole heavens shrouded with clouds. Now, at setting, the
sun is shining on the top of the ancient tower, which stands
right opposite to my ^vindow. Pardon me that I dwell so
much on wind and weather. The traveller by land is almost
as much dependent upon them as the voyager by sea, and it
would be a sad thing if my autumn in foreign lands should be
as little favoured as my summer at home.

And now straight for Innspruck. ^Miat do I not pass
over, both on my right and on my left, in order to carrj^ out
the one thought which has become almost too old in my soiU.

I

Mittelwald, Septemher 7, 1786.

It seems as if my guardian-spirit had said " Amen" to my
" Credo," and I thank him that he has brought me to this
place on so fine a day. My last postilion said, with a joyous
exclamation, it was the first in the whole summer. I cherish
in quiet my superstition that it will long contiime so ; how-
ever, my friends must pardon me if again I talk of air and
clouds.

As I started from Munich about 5 o'clock, the sky cleared
up. On the mountains of the Tyrol the clouds stood in huge
masses. The streaks, too, in the lower regions did not move.
The road lies on the heights over hills of alluvial 2;ravel,
while below one sees the Isar flowing slowly. Here the
work of the inundations of the primal oceans become con-
ceivable. In many granite-rubbles I found the countei-parts
Vol. IL k

242 XETTKRS FKOM ITALY.

of the specimens in my cabinet, for wliicli I have to thank
Knebel.

The mists fi-om the river and the meadows hung about for
a time, but, at last, they, too, dispersed. Between these
gravelly hills, which you must think of as extending,
both in length and breadth, for many leagues, is a highly
beautiful and fertile region like that in the basin of the
Regen. Now one comes again upon the Isar, and observe,
in its channel, a precipitous section of the gravel hills, at
least a hundred and fifty feet high. I arrived at Wolfraths-
hausen and reached the eight-and-fortieth degree. The sun
■was scorching hot ; no one relies on the fine weather ; every-
one is complaining of the past year, and bitterly weeping
over the arrangements of Providence.

And now a new world opened upon me. I was approach-
ing the mountains which stood out more and more distinctly.

Benedictbeuern has a glorious situation and charms one at
the first sight. On a fertile plain is a long and broad white
building, and, behind it, a broad and lofty ridge of rocks.
Next, one ascends to the Kochel-see. and. stul higher on the
mountains, to the Walchen-see. Here I greeted the first
snow-capt summit, and, in the midst of my admiration at
being so near the snowy mountains, I was informed that
yesterday it had thimdered in these parts, and that snow
had fallen on the heights. From these meteoric tokens
people draw hopes of better weather, and from this early
snow, anticipate change in the atmosphere. The rocks around
me are all of limestone, of the oldest formation, and contain-
ing no fossils. These limestone mountains extend in vast,
unbroken ranges from Dalmatia to Mount St. Gothard.
Hacquet has travelled over a considerable portion of the
chain. They dip on the primary rocks of the quartz and
clay.

i reached the Wallen-see about half past 4. About tkree
miles from this place I met with a pretty adventure. A
harper came before me with his daughter, a little girl, of about
eleven years, and begged me to take up his child. He went
on with his instnmient ; I let her sit by my side, and she very
carefuUv placed at her feet a large new box. A pretty and
accomplished creature, and already a great traveller over the
world. She had been on a pilgrimage on foot -vrith her

THE KOAD UP THE BKEXXEE. 243

mother to Maria Einsiedel, and both had determined to go
upon the still longer journey to S. Jago of Compostella, when
her mother was earned off by death, and was unable to fulfil
her vow. It was impossible, she thought, to do too much in
honor of the Mother of God. After a great fire, in which a
whole liouse was burnt to the lowest foundation, she herself
had seen the image of the Mother of God, which stood over the
door beneath a glass frame — image and glass both uninjm-ed
— which was surely a palpable mii'acle. AH her joui'neys she
had taken on foot ; she had just played in Munich before the
Elector of Bavai-ia, and altogether her performances had been
witnessed by one-and-twenty princely personages. She quite
entertained me. Pretty, large, hazel eyes, a proud forehead,
which she frequently wrinkled by an elevation of the brows.
She was natural and agreeable when she spoke, and especially
when she laughed out loud with the fr-ee laugh of childhood.
When, on the other hand, she was suent, she seemed to have
a meaning m it, and, with her upper lip, had a sinister
expression. I spoke with her on very many subjects, she
was at home with all of them, and made most pertinent
remarks. Thus she asked me once, what tree one we came
to, was. It was a huge and beautiful maple, the first I had
seen on my whole joxmiey. She narrowly observed it, and
was quite delighted when several more appeared, and she was
able to recognize this tree. She was going, she told me, to
Botzen for the fair, where she guessed I too was hastening.
T\Tien she met me there I must buy her a fairing, which, of
course, I promised to do. She intended to put on thei'e her new
coif which she had had made out of her earnings at Munich.
She would show it to me beforehand. So she opened the
bandbox and I could not do less than admire the head-gear,
with its rich embroidery and beautiful ribbons.

Over another pleasant prospect we felt a mutual plea-
siu'e. She asserted that we had fine weather before us.
For they always canied their barometer with them and that
was the harp. When the treble-string twanged it was sm'e
to be fine weather, and it had done so yesterday. I accepted
the omen, and we parted in the best of himiours, and with the
hope of a speedy moethig.

b2

244 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

O71 the Brejiner, September 8, 1786,
Evening.

Hurried, not to say driven, here by necessity, I have
reached at last a resting-place, in a calm, quiet spot, just such
as I could wish it to be. It has been a day which for many years
it will be a pleasure to recall. I left ^littelwald about 6 in
the morning, and a sharp wind soon perfectly cleared the
sky. The cold was such as one looks for only in February.
But now, in the splendour of the setting sim, the dark fore-
gi'ound, thickly planted with fig-trees, and peeping between
them the grey limestone rocks, and behind all, the highest
summit of the movmtain covered with snow, and standing
out in bold outline against the deep blue sky, fiu-nish pre-
cious and ever-changing images.

One enters the Tyrol by Scharnitz. The boundary line is
marked by a wall which bars the passage through the valley,
and abuts on both sides on the mountains. It looks well: on
one side the rocks are fortified, on the other they ascend per-
pendicularly. From Secfeld the road continually grew more
interesting, and if from Benedictbeuern to this place it went
on ascending, from height to height, while all the streams of
the neighbouring districts were making for the Isar, now one
caught a sight over a ridge of rocks of the valley of the Inn,
and Inzingen lay before us. The sun was high and hot, so
that I was obliged to throw ofi" some of my coats, for, indeed,
with the varying atmosphere of the day, I am obliged fre-
quently to change my clothing.

At Zierl one begins to descend into the valley of the Inn.
Its situation is indescribably beautiful, and the bright beams
-of the sun made it look quite cheerfiü. The postilion went
faster than I wished, for he had not yet heard mass, and was
•anxious to be present at it at Innspruck, where, as it was the
festival of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, he hojied to be a
devout participant. Accordingly, we rattled along the banks
of the Inn, hm-rying by Martinswand, a vast, precipitous,
wall-like rock of limestone. To the spot where the Emperor
Maximilian is said to have lost himself, I ventiu-ed to
descend and came up again without a guide, although it is,
in any case, a rash undertaking.

lunspruck is gloriously situated in a rich, broad valley.

INNSPE.UCK. METEOKOLOGY. 245

between high rocks and mountains. Eveiybody and every-
thing was decked out in honour of the Virgin's Nativity. At
fii-st I had some wish to stop there, but it promised neither
rest nor peace. For a little while I amused myself with the
son of my host. At last the people who were to attend to me
came in one by one. For the sake of health and prosperity to
the flocks, they had all gone on a pilgrimage to Wilden, a
place of worship on the mountaiias, about three miles and
a half from the city. About 2 o'clock, as my rolling carriage
di^dded the gay, merry throng, every one was in holiday garb
and promenade.

From Inuspruck the road becomes even still more beauti-
ful ; no powers of description can equal it. The most fre-
quented road, ascending a gorge which empties its waters into
the Inn, offers to the eye innumerable varieties of scenery.
While the road often runs close to the most rugged rocks —
indeed is frequently cut right through them — one sees the other
side above you slightly inclining, and cultivated with the most
surprising skill. On the high and broad-ascending surface
lie valleys, houses, cottages, and cabins, whitewashed, glitter-
ing among the fields and hedges. Soon all changed ; the land
becomes available only for pasture, until it, too, terminates
on the precipitous ascent. I have gained some ideas for my
scheme of a creation ; none, however, perfectly new and un-
expected. I have also dreamed much of the model I have so
long talked about, by which I am desirous to give a notion of
all that is brooding in my own mind, and which, in natm'e
itself, I cannot point out to every eye.

Now it gi'ew darker and darker ; individual objects were
lost in the obscurity; the masses became constantly vaster
and grander ; at last, as the whole moved before me like some
deeply mysterious figure, the moon suddenly illuminated the
snow-capt summits ; and now I am waiting till morning shall
light up this rocky chasm in which I am shut up on the
boundary line of the north and south.

I must again add a few remarks on the weather, which,
perhaps, favom-s me so highly, in return for the great attention
I pay to it. On the lowlands one has good or bad weather
when it is already settled for either ; on the mountains one is
present with the beginning of the change. I have so often
experienced this when on my travels, or walks, or hunting

246 BETTERS FROM ITALY.

excursions, I have passed daj^s and nights between the cliffs in
the mountain forests. On such occasions, a conceit occurred
to me, which I give you as nothing better, but which, however,
I cannot get rid of, as indeed, generally, such conceits are, of
all things, most difficult to get rid of. I altogether look upon
it as a truth, and so I will now give utterance to it, especially
as I have already so often had occasion to prove the indul-
gence of my friends.

When we look at the mountains, either closely or from a
distance, and see their summits above us at one time glittering
in the sunsliine, at another enveloped in mist, swept round with
strong clouds, or blackened with showers, we are disposed to
ascribe it all to the atmosphere, as we can easily with the eye
see and discern its movements and changes. The moun-
tains, on the other hand, mtli their glorious shapes lie before
our outward senses immoveable. We take them to be dead
because they are rigid, and we believe them to be inactive
because they are at rest. For a long while, however, I can-
not put off the impiüse to ascribe, for the most part, to their
imperceptible and secret influence the changes Avhich are
observable in the atmosphere. For instance, I believe that
the mass of the earth generally, and, therefore, also in an
especial way its more considerable continents do not exercise
a constant and invariable force of attraction, but that this
attractive force manifests itself by a certain pulse which,
according to intrinsic, necessary, and probably also acci-
dental, external causes, increases or decreases. Though all
attempts by other objects to determine this oscillation may be
too limited and rude, the atmosphere furnishes a standai'd
both delicate and large enough to test their silent operations.
When this attractive force decreases never so little, immedi-
ately the decrease in the gravity and the diminished elasticity
of the air indicates this effect. The atmosphere is now
unable to sustain the moisture which is diffused throughout it
cither chemically or mechanically ; the clouds lower, and the
rain falls and passes to the lowlands. When, however, the
mountains increase their power of attraction, then the elas-
ticity of the air is again restored, and two impoitant pheno-
mena result. First of all, the mountains collect around their
summits vast masses of clouds ; hold them fost and flinn above
themselves like second heads, until, as determined by the

METEOKOLOGY. VEGETATION. 247

contest of electrical forces within tliem, they pour down
as thunder-showers, rain or mist, and then, on all that
remains the electricity of the air operates, Avhich is now
restored to a capacity of retaining more water, dissohing and
elaborating it. I saw quite clearly the dispersion of a cloudy
mass of this kind. It was hanging on the very highest peak ;
the red tints of the setting sun still illuminated it. Slowly
and slowly pieces detached themselves from either end.
Some fleecy nebulae were drawn off and can-ied up stiU
higher, and then disappeared, and in this manner, by degrees,
the whole mass vanished, Avhile before my eyes there was
spread, as it were, a garment by invisible hands.

If my fi'iends are disposed to laugh at the itinerant meteor-
ologist and his strange theories, I shall, perhaps, give them
more sohd cause for laughter by some other of my remarks,
for I must confess that, as my jom-ney Avas, in fact, a flight
from all the imshapely things which tormented me in latitude
öl'', I hoped, in 48*^, to meet with a time Goshen. But I
found myself disappointed ; for latitude alone does not make
a climate and fine weather, but the mountain- chains — especi-
ally such as intersect the land from east to west. In these,
gi'eat changes are constantly going on, and the lands which
lie to the north have most to suficr from them. Thus, fur-
ther north, the weather throughout the sunmier was deter-
mined by the great Alpine range on which I am now vs-riting.
Here, for the last few months, it has rained incessantly, while
a south-east or south-west wind carried the showers north-
wards. In Italy they are said to have had fine weather,
indeed, a little too dry.

And now a few words on a kindred subject — the vegetable
world, which, in so many ways, depends on cHmate and
moisture, and the height of the mountain-ranges. Here, too,
I have noticed no remarkable change, but still an improve-
ment. In the valley before Inuspruck, apples and pears are
abundant, while the peaches and grapes are brought from the
Welsh districts, or, in other words, the Southern Tyrol.
Near Innspiaick they grow a great deal of Indian corn and
buck wheat, which they call blende. On the Brenner I first
saw the larch, and near Schemberg the pine. Would the
haq:)er"s daughter have questioned me about them also?

As regards the plants, I feel still more how perfect a tyro

248 LETTERS FKOM ITALY.

I am. Up to Munich I saw, I believed, none but those I
was Avell accustomed to. In truth, my hurried tnivclKng, by-
day and night, was not favorable to nicer observation on such
objects. Now, it is true, I have my Linnmis at hand, and his
Terminology is well stamped on my brain ; but whence is the
time and qviiet to come for analysing, which, if I at all know
myself, will never become my forte? I, therefore, sharpen
my eye for the more general features, and when I met with
the first Gentiana near the Walchensee, it struck me that it
was always nefu* the water, that I had hitherto noticed any
new plants.

A^Hiat made me still more attentive was the influence which
the altitude of the mountain region evidently had on plants.
Not only did I meet there witli new specimens, but I also
observed that the growth of the old ones was materially
altered. While in the lower regions branches and stalks Avere
stronger and more sappy, the buds stood closer together, and the
leaves broader; the higher j'ou got on the mountains the stalks
and branches became more fragile, the buds were at greater
intervals, and the leaves thinner and more lanceolate. I
noticed this in the case of a Willow and of a Gentiana. and
convinced myself that it was not a case of different species.
So also, near the Walchensee, I noticed longer and thinner
rushes than anpvhere else.

The limestone of the Alps, which I have as yet travelled
over, has a greyish tint, and beautiful, singular, irregular
forms, although the rock is divisible into blocks and strata.
But as irregular strata occur, and the rock in general does
not crumble equally under the influence of the weather, the
sides and the peaks have a singular ajipearance. This kind
of rock comes up the Brenner to a great height. In the
region of the Upper Lake I noticed a slight modification.
On a micaceous slate of dark green and grey colours, and
thickly veined with quartz, lay a white, solid limestone,
which, in its detritus, sparkled and stood in great masses, with
nvimberlcss clefts. Above it I again found micaceous slate,
which, however, seemed to me to be of a softer texture than
the first. Higher up still there was to be seen a peculiar
kind of gneiss, or rather a granitic species which approxi-
mated to gneiss, as is in the district of Ellbogen. Here at
the top, and opposite the Inn, the rock is micaceous slate.

GEOLOGY. MY FELLOW TRAVELLERS. 249

The streams which come from the mountains leave deposits of
nothing but this stone, and of the grey limestone.

Not far from here must be the granitic base on which all
rests. The maps show that one is on the side of the true
great Brenner, from wliich the streams of a wide surroimding-
district take their rise.

The following is my external judgment of the people.
•They are active and straightforward. In form they are pretty
generally alike: hazel, well-opened eyes; with the women
bro'mi and well-defined eyebrows, but ■svith the men light and
thick. Among the grey rocks the green hats of the men
have a cheerful appearance. The hats are generally orna-
mented with ribbons or broad silk-sashes, and with fringes
which are prettily sewn on. On the other hand, the women
disfigure themselves with white, undressed cotton caps of a
large size, veiymuch like men"s nightcaps. These give them
a very strange appearance ; but abroad, they wear the green
hats of the men, which become them very much.

I have opportunity of seeing the value the common class of
people put upon peacock's feathers, and, in general, how
every variegated feather is prized. He who wishes to travel
thi-ough these mountains will do well to take with him a lot
of them. A feather of this kind produced at the proper
moment wiU serve instead of the ever- welcome " something-
to drink."

Whilst I am putting together, sorting, and an-anging these
sheets, in such a way that my fi-iends may easily take a
review of my fortunes up to this point, and that I may, at the
same time, dismiss from my soul all that I have lately thought
and experienced, I have, on the other hand, cast many a
trembling look on some packets of which I must give a good
but brief accoimt. They are to be my fellow travellers ; may
they not exercise too great an influence on my next few
days.

I brought with me to Carlsbad the whole of my MSS. in
order to complete the edition of my works, which Goschen
has undertaken. The imprinted ones I had long possessed in
beautiful transcripts, by the practised hand of Secretary
Vögel. This active person accompanied me on this occasion,
in order that I might, if necessary, command his dexterous
services. By this means, and with the never-failing co-ope-

250 LETTEKS PKOM ITALY.

lution of Herder, I was soon in a condition to send to the
printer the first four volumes, and was on the point of doing
the same with the last four The latter consisted, for the
most pai-t. of mere unfinished sketches, indeed of fragments;
for, in truth, my perverse habit of beginning many plans, and
then, as the interest waned, laying them aside, had gradually
gained sti-ength with increasing years, occupations, and
duties.

As I had brought these scraps with me, I readily listened to
the requests of the literary circles of Carlsbad, and read out
to them all that before had lemained unknown to the world,
which akeady was bitter enough in its complaints that much
M'ith which it had entertained itseK still remained unfinished.

The celebration of my birthday consisted mainly in sending
me several poems in the name of my commenced but im-
finishcd works. Among these, one M'as distinguished above
the rest. It was called the Birds. A deputation of these
happy creatm-es being sent tu a true friend eai-nestly entreat him
to foimd at once and establish the kingdom so long promised
to them. Not less ob%äous and playful were the allusions to
my other unfinished pieces, so that, all at once, they again
possessed a liviug interest for me, and I related to my friends
the designs I had formed, and the entü-e plans. This gave
rise to the expression of wishes and urgent requests, and gave
the game entirely into Herder's hands, while he attempted
to induce me to take back these papers, and, above all, to
bestow lipon the Iphigenia the pains it well deserved. The
fragment which lies before me is rather a sketch than a.
finished piece: it is written in poetical prose, which occa-
sionally falls into a sort of lambical rhythm, and even
imitates other syllabic metres. This, indeed, does great
injury to the effect unless it is read well, and unless, by skil-
ful turns, this defect is carefully concealed. He pressed this
matter on me veiy earnestly, and as I concealed from him as
well as the rest the gi'cat extent of my intended tour, and as
he believed I had nothing more in view than a mountain trip,
and as he was always ridiciding my geogTaphical and mine-
ralogical studies, he insisted I should act much wiser if,
instead of breaking stones, I wovdd put my hand to this work.
I could not but give way to so many and well-meant remon-
strances j but, as yet, I have had no opportunity to turn my

TE.EXT. 251

attention to these matters. I now detacli Iphigenia from tlie
bundle and take her with me as my fellow-traveller into the
beautiful and warm country of the South. The days are so
long, and there will be nothing to disturb reflection, while
the glorious objects of the surrounding scene ly by no means
depress the poetic nerve ; indeed, assisted by movement and
the free air, they rather stimiüate and call it forth more
quickly and more vividly.

FROM THE BRENNER TO VERONA.

Trent, morning of the Wth Sept.
Aftek full fifty hours, passed in active and constant occupa-
tion, I reached here about 8 o'clock yesterday evening, and
soon after retired to rest, so that I now find myself in condi-
tion to go on with my nan-ative. On the evening of the 9th,
when I had closed the first portion of my diary, I thought I
would try and draw the inn and post-house on the Brenner,
just as it stood. My attempt was unsuccessful, for I missed
the character of the place ; I went home therefore in somewhat
of an ill-himior. Mine host asked me if I would not depart,
telling me it was moon-light and the best travelling. Although
I knew perfectly well that, as he wanted his horses early in
the morning to carry in the after-crop {Gruminet), and wished
to have them home again in time for that purpose, his advice
was given with a view to his o\^ti interest, I nevertheless
took it, because it accorded with my O'sati inclination. The
sun reappeared, the air was tolerable, I packed up, and started
about 7 o'clock. The blue atmosphere triumphed over the
clouds, and the evening was most beautiful.

The postilion fell asleep, and the horses set ofi" at a quick
trot doAATi-hill, always taking the well-known route. "VVhen
they came to a village they went somewhat slower. Then
the driver Avould wake up, and give them a fresh stimulus,
and thus M^e descended at a good pace with high rocks on both
sides of us, or by the banks of the rapid river Etsch. The
moon arose and shed her light upon the massive objects
around. Some mills, which stood between primaeval pine-
trees, over the foaming stream, seemed really everlasting.

"\Mien, at 9 o'clock, I had reached Sterzingen, they gave me
clearly to imderstand, that they M-ishcd me off again. Arriving
in Mittel wald, exactly at 12 o'clock, I found everybody asleep

252 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

except the postilion, and we -vvcre obliged to go on to Brixen,
where I was again taken off in like manner, so that at the dawn
of day I was in Colman. The postilions drove so fast that there
was neither seeing nor hearing, and although I could not help
being sorry at travelling through this noble country with
such frightful rapidity; and at night, too, as though I was
flying the place, I nevertheless felt an inward joy, that a
favorable -wind blew behind me, and seemed to hurry me
towards the object of my wishes. At day-break I perceived
the first vineyard. A woman with pears and peaches met
me, and thus we went on to Tcutschen, where I arrived at
7 o'clock, and then was again hmn-ied on. After I had
again travelled northwards for a while, I at last saw in the
bright sunshine the valley where Botzen is situated. Sur-
rounded by steep and somewhat high mountains, it is open
towards the south, and sheltered towards the north by the
Tyrolese range. A mild, soft air pervaded the spot. Here
the Etsch again winds towards the south. The hills at the
foot of the mountain are cultivated with vines. The vinestocks
are trained over long but low arbourwork ; the purple grapes
are gracefully suspended from the top, and ripen in the
warmth of the soil, which is close beneath them. In the
bottom of the valley, which for the most part consists of nothing
but meadows, the vine is cultivated in naiTOw rows of similar
festoons, at a little distance from each other, while between
grows the Indian corn, the stalks of which at this time are
high. I have often seen it ten feet high. The fibrous' male
blossom is not yet cut ofi", as is the case when fi:uctification
has ceased for some time.

I came to Botzen in a bright sunshine. A good assem-
blage of mercantile faces pleased me much. Everywhere one
sees the liveliest tokens. An existence full of purpose, and
highly comfortable. In the square some fruit-women were
sitting with round flat baskets, above four feet in diameter, in
which peaches were arranged side by side, so as to avoid
pressm-e. Here I thought of a verse, which I had seen
written on the window of the inn at Batisbon :

Comme les peches et les melons
Sont pour la bouche d'un Baron,
Ainsi les verges et les batons
Sont pour les fous, dit Salomon.

BOTZEN TKENT. 253

It is obvious that this was ^^Titten by a northern baron, and
no less clear is it that if he were in this country, he would
alter his notions.

At the Botzen foir a brisk silk-trade is carried on. Cloths
are also brought here, and as much leather as can be procured
fi-om the mountain districts. Several merchants, however,
came chiefly for the sake of depositing their money, taking
orders, and opening new credits. I felt I could have taken
great delight in examining the various products that were
collected here; but the impulse, the state of disquiet, which
keeps urging me from behind, would not let me rest, and I
must at once hasten from the spot. For my consolation,
however, the whole matter is printed in the statistical pipers,
and we can, if we require it, get such instiiictions from
books. I have now to deal only with the sensible impres-
sions, which no book or picture can give. In fact, I am again
taking interest in the world, I am testing my faculty of obser-
vation, and am trying how far I can go with my science
and my acquirements, how far my eye is clear and sharp, how
much I can take in at a hasty glance, and whether those
Avrinkles, that are imprinted upon my heart, are ever again
to be obliterated. Even in these few days, the circumstance
that I have had to wait upon myself, and have always been
obliged to keep my attention and presence of mind on the
alert, has given me quite a new elasticity of intellect. I must
now busy myself with the currency, must change, pay, note
do\\m, -RTite, while I formerly did nothing but think, will,
reflect, command, and dictate.

From Botzen to Trent the stage is nine leagues and runs
through a valley, which constantly increases in fertility. All
that merely struggles into vegetation on the higher moim-
tains, has here more strength and vitality; the sun shines
■with warmth, and there is once more belief in a Deity.

A poor woman cried out to me to take her child into my
vehicle, as the hot soil was burning its feet. I did her this
little serA-ice out of honom- to the strong light of heaven. The
child was strangely decked out, but I could get nothing
from it in any way.

The Etsch flows more gently in these parts, and it
makes broad deposits of gravel in many places. On the land,
near the river and up the hills, the planting is so thick and
close, that one fancies one thing will sufibcate the other. It

254 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

is a regular thicket of \'ineyards, maize, mulbeiTy trees, apples,
pears, quinces, and nuts. The dancwort {Attig) thrives luxu-
riantly on the -walls. l\j with solid stems runs up the rocks,
on Avhich it spreads itself; the lizards gUde through the
interstices, and ^yhateTer has life or motion here, reminds one
of the most charming works of art. The braided top-knots of
the women, the bared breasts and light jackets of the men,
the fine oxen which you see driven home from market, the
laden asses, — all combine to produce one of Heim-ich Roos's
animated pictures. And when evening draws on, and through
the calmness of the air, a few clouds rest upon the mountains,
rather standing than running against the sky, and, as imme-
diately after sunset, the chh-p of the grasshoppers begins to
gi-ow loud, one feels quite at home in the world, and not a
mere exile. I am as reconciled to the place as if I were bom
and bred in it, and had now just returned fi-om a whaling
expedition to Greenland. Even the dust, which here as in
our fotherland often plays about my wheels, and which has
so long remained strange to me, I welcome as an old friend.
The bell-like voice of the cricket is most piercing, and far
from unpleasant. A cheerful effect is produced, when playful
boys whistle against a field of such singers, and you almost
fancy that the sovmd on each side is raised by emulation. The
evening here is perfectly mild no less than the day.

If any one who lived in the South, or came from the South,
heard my enthusiasm about these matters, he would consider
me very childish. Ah, what I express here, I long ago was
conscious of, while ruffling under an imkindly sky ; and now
I love to experience as an exception the happiness which I
hope soon to enjoy as a regular natm-al necessity.

Trent, the evening of the \Qth Sept.
I have wandered about the city, which has an old, not to
say a very primitive look, though there are new and well-built
houses in some of the streets. In the chiu-ch there is a picture
in which the assembled council of the Jesuits is represented,
listening to a sermon delivered by the general of the order. I
should like to know what he is tiying to palm upon them. The
church of these fathers may at once be recognised from the outside
by pilasters of red marble on the facade. The doors are covered
by a heav}^ curtain, which serves to keep off the dust. I raised

TKENT. 255

it, and entered a small vestibule. The church itself is parted
off by an iron grating, but so that it can be entirely overlooked.
An was as silent as the grave, for diviue serv'ice is no longer
performed here. The front door stood open, merely because
all chm-ches must be open at the time of Vespers.

While I stood considering the architectaire, which was, I
foxmd, similar to other Jesuit churches, an old man stepped in,
and at once took off his little black cap. His old faded black
coat indicated that he was a needy priest. He knelt do'wn
before the grating, and rose again after a short prayer. When
he tm-ned round, he said to himself half-aloud: " Well, they
have driven out the Jesuits, but they ought to have paid them
the cost of the church. I know how many thousands were
spent on the chm-ch and the seminary." As he uttered this
he left the spot, and the curtain fell behind him. I, however,
lifted it again, and kept myself quiet. He remained a whue
standing on the topmost step, and said: "The Emperor did
not do it; the Pope did it." With his face turned towards
the street, so that he could not observe me, he continued:
" First the Spaniards, then we, then the French. The blood
of Abel cries out against his brother Cain!" And thus he
went down the steps and along the street, still talking to liim-
self, I should conjecture he is one who, having been main-
tained by the Jesuits, has lost his wits in consequence of the
tremendous fall of the order, and now comes every day to
search the empty vessel for its old inhabitants, and, after a
short prayer, to pronotmce a curse upon their enemies.

A young man, whom I questioned about the remarkable
sights in the town, showed me a house, which is called the
" Devil's house," because the devil, who is generally too
ready to destroy, is said to have buut it in a single night, with
stones rapidly brought to the spot. However, what is really
remarkable about the house, the good man had not observed,
namely, that it is the only house of good taste that I have yet
seen in Trent, and was certainly built by some good Italian,
at an earlier period. At 5 o'clock in the evening I again set
off. The spectacle of yesterday evening was repeated, and
at sun-set the grasshoppers again began to sing. For about
a league the journey lies between walls, above which the
grape-espaliers are visible. Other walls, which are not high
enough, have been eked out Avith stones, thorns, Sec, to
prevent passengers fi-om plucking off the grapes. Many

256 LETTERS FKOM ITALY.

owners sprinkle the foremost ro%ys M'ith lime, which renders
the grapes uneatable, but does not hurt the wine, as the pro-
cess of fermentation drives out the heterogeneous matter.

Eveiihig of Septemher 11.
I am now at Rovercdo, where a marked distinction of lan-
^age begins ; hitherto, it has fluctuated between German and
Italian. I have now, for the first time, had a thoroughly-
Italian postilion, the inn-keeper does not speak a word of
German, and I must put my own linguistic powers to the
test. How delighted I am that the language I have alwaj's most
loved now becomes living — the language of common usage.

Torhole, \2th September {offer dinner).

How much do I wish that my friends were with me for a
moment to enjoy the prospect, which now lies before my eyes.

I might have been in Verona this evening but a magnificent
natund phenomenon was in my vicinity — Lake Garda, a splen-
did spectacle, which I did not want to miss, and now I am
nobly rewarded for taking this circuitous route. After 5 o'clock
I started from Rovercdo, up a side valley, which still pom'S its
waters into the Etsch. After ascending this, you come to an
immense rocky bar, which you must cross in descending to the
lake. Here appeared the finest calcareous rocks for pictorial
study. On descending you come to a little village on the
northern end of the lake, with a little port, or rather landing-
place, which is called Torbole. On my way upwards I was con-
stantly accompanied by fig-trees, and, descending into the rocky
atmosphere, I found the first olive-tree full of fruit. Here
also, for the fin'st time, I found as a common fruit those little
■white figs, which the Countess Lanthieri had promised me.

A door opens from the chamber in which I sit into the
court-yard below. Before this I have placed my table, and
taken a rough sketch of the prospect. The lake may be seen
for its whole length, and it is only at the end, towards the
left, that it vanishes from our eyes. The shore, which is
inclosed on both sides by hill and mountain, shines with a
countless number of Little hamlets.

After midnight the wind blows fi'om north to south, and he
who wishes to go do^^Ti the lake must travel at this time, for
a few hours before sunset the current of air changes, and
moves northward. At this time, the afternoon, it blows strongly

XAGO DI GAKDA. 257

against me, and pleasantly qualifies the burning heat of the
Sim. Volkmann teaches me that this lake "was formerly called
" Benacus,"' and quotes from Virgil a line in which it was
mentioned:

" Fluctibus et fremitcr rosonans, Benacc, marino."

This is the first Latia verse, the subject of which ever stood
visiblv before me, and now. in the present moment, when the
wind is blowing stronger and stronger, and the lake casts
loftier billows against the Httle harbour, it is just as ti'ue as it
was hundi'eds of years a^o. Much, indeed, has changed, but
the wind still roars about the lake, the aspect of which gains
even greater glory from a line of Virgil's.

The above was -«Titten in a latitude of 45" 50'.

I went out for a walk in the cool of the evening, and now I
really find myself in a new country, surrounded by objects
entirely strange. The people lead a careless, samitering Hfe.
In the first place, the doors are without locks, but the host
assured me that I might be quite at ease, even though all I
had about me consisted of diamonds. In the second place,
the windows are covered with oiled paper instead of glass. In
the third place, an extremely ?iecessa?-i/ convenience is want-
ing, so that one comes pretty close to a state of nature.
"^^^len I asked the waiter for a certain place, he pointed
down into the court-yard: '"Qui, abasso puo servirsi!"
"Dove?" asked I. "Da per tutto. dove -v-uol." was the
friendly reply. The greatest carelessness is visible every-
where, but stul there is life and bustle enough. During
the whole dav there is a constant chattering and shriekins: of
the female neighbors, all have something to do at the same
time. I have not yet seen an idle woman.

The host, with Italian emphasis, assured me. that he felt
great pleasiu'e in being able to serve me with the finc-t trout.
They are taken near Torbole. where the stream flows do^vn
from the mountains, and the fish seeks a passage upwards.
The Emperor fanns this fishery for 10.000 gulden. The fish,
which are large, often wciijhing fifty poimds, and spotted over
the whole body to the head, are not trout, properly so called.
The flavour, which is between that of trout and salmon, is
delicate and excellent.

Vol. II. s

258 LETTEES FKOM ITALY.

But my real delight is in the fruit. — in the figs, and in the
pears, which must, indeed, be excellent, where citrons are
already "rrowing.

Evening of Septemher 13.
At 3 o'clock this morning I started from Torbole, with a
couple of rowers. At first the wind was so favorable that we
put up a sail. The morning was cloudy but fine, and perfectly
calm at day-break. We passed Limona, the mountain-gar-
dens of which, laid out terrace-fashion, and planted with
citron-trees, have a neat and rich appearance. The whole
garden consists of rows of square white pillars placed at some
distance from each other, and rising up the moimtain in steps.
On these pillars sti'ong beams ai-e laid, that the trees planted
between them may be sheltered in the winter. The view
of these pleasant objects was favored by a slow passage,
and we had ah-eady passed JNIalsesine when the wind sud-
denly changed, took the direction usual in the day-time, and
blew towards the north. Rowing was of little use against this
superior power, and, therefore, we were forced to land in
the harboiu- of Malsesine. This is the fii'st Venetian spot on
the eastern side of the lake. \Mien one has to do with water
we cannot say, " I will be at this or that particular place to-
day." I wiU make my stay here as useful as I can, especially
by making a di-awiug of the castle, which lies close to the
water, and is a beautiful object. As I passed along I took a
sketch of it.

Sejyt. nth.
The wind, which blew against me yesterday, and drove me
into the harbour of ^Malsesine, was the cause of a peiilous
adventure, which I got over with good humour, and the re-
membrance of w hich I still find amusing. According to my
plan, I went early in the morning into the old castle, which
having neither gate nor guard, is accessible to eveiybody.
Entering the court-yard, I seated myself opposite to the old
tower, which is built on and among the rocks. Here I had
selected a very convenient spot for drawing:- — a carved stone
seat in the wall, near a closed door, raised some three or four
feet high, such as we also find in the old buildings in our own
country.

AX IXCIDEXT AT ilALSESIXE. 259

I had not sat long before sevei-al persons entered the yard,
and walked backwards and forwards, looking at me. The mid-
titude increased, and at last so stood as comjjletcly to surround
me. I remarked that my drawing had excited attention;
however, I did not allow myself to be disturbed, but quietly
continued my occupation. At last a man, not of the most
prepossessing appeai-ance, came up to me, and asked me what
I was about. I replied that I was copying the old tower,
that I might have some remembi-ance of ISIalsesiae. He said
that this was not allowed, and that I must leave off. As he
said this in the common Venetian dialect, so that I under-
stood him with difficulty-, I answered, that I did not imdcrstand
him at all. With true Italian coolness he took hold of my
paper, and tore it, at the same time letting it remain on the
pasteboard. Here I observed an air of dissatisfaction among
the by-standers; an old woman in particular said that it was
not right, but that the podesta ought to be called, who was
the best judge of such matters. I stood upright on the steps,
having my back agaiast the door, and surveyed the assembly,
which was conthiuaUy LQcreasing. The fixed eager glances,
the good hiunom-ed expression of most of the faces, and all
the other characteristics of a foreign mob. made the most
amusing impression upon me. I fancied that I could see
before me the choms of birds, which, as Treufi-eund, I had
often laughed at. in the Ettersbm-g theatre. This put me in
excellent humom-, and when the podesta came up viith. his
actuai-y. I gi-eeted him in an open manner, and when he asked
me why I was dra%\-ing the fortification, modestly replied, that
I did not look upon that wall as a fortification. I called the
attention of him and the people to the decay of the towers and
walls, and to the generally defenceless position of the place,
assuring him that I thought I only saw and drew a ruin.

I was answered thus: '"If it was only a ruin, what could
there be remarkable about it?" As I wished to gain time
and favour, I replied ven' cii'cumstantially, that they must
be well aware how many ti-avellers visited Italy, for the sake
of the ruins only, that Rome, the metropolis of the world,
having suffered the depredations of barbarians, was now full
of iidns, which had been di-a%^-n hundi-eds of times, and that
aU the works of antiquity were not in such good preservation
as the amphitheati-e at Verona, which I hoped soon to see.

s 2

260 LETTERS TEOM ITALY.

The podesta, who stood before me, though in a less elevated
position, was a tall man, not exactly thiii, of about thirty
years of age. The flat featui'es of his spiritless face perfectly
accorded with the slow constrained manner, in which he put
his questions. Even the actuary, a sharp little fellow, seemed
as if he did not know what to make of a case so new, and so
unexpected. I said a great deal of the same sort ; the people
seemed to take my remarks good naturedly, and on turning
towards some kindly female faces, I thought I could read
assent and approval.

When, however, I mentioned the amphitheatre at "Verona,
which in this coimtry, is called the " Arena," the actuary,
who had in the meanwhile collected himself, replied, that this
was all veiy well, because the edifice in question was a lloman
building, famed throughout the world. In these towers, how-
ever, there was nothing remarkable, excepting that they marked
the boundary between the Venetian domaiii and Austrian
Empire, and therefore espionage could not be allowed. I
answered by explaining at some length, that not only the
Great and Roman antiquities, but also those of the Middle-
Ages were worth attention. They could not be blamed, I
granted, if, having been accustomed to this building from
their youth upwards, they could not discern in it so many
picturesque beauties as I did. Fortunately the morning sun,
shed the most beautiful lustre on the tower, rocks, and walls,
and I began to describe the scene with enthusiasm. My
audience, however, had these much lauded objects behind them,
and as they did not wish to turn altogether away from me,
they all at once twisted their heads, like the birds, which we
call " MTy necks" (Wendehälse), that they might see with
their eyes, what I had been lauding to their ears. Even the
podesta turned round towards the pictm-e I had been describ-
ing, though with more dignity than the rest. This scene
appeared to me so ridiculous that my good humour increased,
and I spared them nothing — least of all, the ivy, which had
been suffered for ages to adorn the rocks and walls.

The actuary retorted, that this was all veiy good, but the
Emperor Joseph was a troublesome gentleman, who certainly
entertained many evil designs against Venice; and I might
probably have been one of his subjects, appointed by him, to
act as a spy on the borders.

AN INCIDENT AT MALSESINE. 261

■"Far from belonging to the Emperor," I replied, "lean
boast, as well as you, that I am a citizen of a repubhc, which
also governs itself, but which is not, indeed, to be compared
for power and greatness to the illustrious state of Venice,
although in commercial activity, in wealth, and in the wisdom
of its rulers, it is inferior to no state in Gennany. I am a
native of Frankfort-on-the-^Main, a city, the name and fame
of which has doubtless reached you."

" Of Frankfort-on-the-Main ! " cried a pretty young woman,
"then, Mr. Podesta, you can at once see all about the
foreigner, M-hom I look upon as an honest man. Let Gre-
gorio be called; he has resided there a long time, and wiU be
the best judge of the matter."

The kindly faces had ah'cady increased around me, the first
adversary had vanished, and when Gregorio came to the spot,
the whole affair took a decided turn in my favor. He was a man
upwards of fifty, with one of those well-known Italian faces.
He spoke and conducted himself like one, who feels that
something foreign is not foreign to him, and told me at once
that he had seen service in Bolongari's house, and would be
delighted to hear from me something about this family and
the city in general, which had left a pleasant impression in
his memory. Fortunately his residence at Fraukfort had
been dm'ing my yoimger years, and I had the double advan-
tage of being able to say exactly how matters stood in his
time, and what alteration had taken place afterwards. I told
liim about all the Italian families, none of whom had remained
unknown to me. With many particulars he was highly
delighted, as, for instance, with the fact that Herr Alessina
had celebrated his '•golden wedding,"* in the year 1774, and
that a medal had been struck on the occasion, which was in
my possession. He remembered that the wife of this wealthy
merchant was by birth a Brentano. I could also tell him
something about the children and grand-children of these
families, how they had grown up, and had been provided for
and married, and had multiplied themselves in their des-
cendants.

^^'hen I had given the most accurate information about
almost everjlhing which he asked, his features alternately
* The fiftieth anniversary of a wedding-day is so called in Germany,

TllAN3.

262 LETTEKS EKOM ITALY.

expressed cheerfulness and solemnity. He was pleased and
touched, while the people cheered \ip more and more, and
could not hear too much of our conversation, of which — it
must be confessed — ^he was obliged to translate a part into
their own dialect.

At last he said : "Podesta, I am convinced that this is a
good, accomplished, and well-educated gentleman, who is
travelling about to acquire instruction. Let him depart in a
friendly manner, that he may speak well of ns to his fcUow-
coimtrymen, and induce them to -s-isit Malsesine, the beautiful
situation of which is well worthy the admiration of foreigners.
I gave additional force to these friendly words by praising the
countiy, the situation, and the inhabitants, not forgetting to
mention the magistrates as wise and prudent personages.

This was well received, and I had permission to visit the
place at pleasiu-e, in company with Master Gregorio. The
landlord, with whom I had put up, now joined us, and was
delighted at the prospect of the foreign guests, who would
crowd upon him, when once the advantages of ^lalsesine were
properly kno^Ti. "With the most lively curiosity he examined
my various articles of ckess, but especially envied me the pos-
session of a little pistol, which slipped conveniently into the
pocket. He congi'atulated those who coiüd carry such pretty
weapons, this being forbidden in his counti-y under the
severest penalties. This friendly but obtrusive personage
I sometimes interrupted to thank my deliverer. "Do not
thank me," said honest Gregorio, "for you owe me nothing.
If the Podesta had understood his business, and the Actuary
had not been the most selfish man in the world, you woidd
not have got off so easily. The foiiner was still more puzzled
than you, and the latter would have pocketed nothing by your
arrest, the information, and your removal to Verona. This
he rapidly thought over, and you were already free, before
our dialogue was ended."

Towards the evening the good man took me into his vine-
yard, which was verj^ well situated, doA\Ti along the lake. We
were accompanied by his son, a lad of fifteen, who was forced
to cKmb the trees, and pluck me the best fruit, while the old
man looked out for the ripest gi-apes.

^Vhile thus placed between these two kindhearted people,
both strange to the world, alone, as it were, in the deep soli-

LAGO DI GAEDA. 263

tude of the earth, I felt, in the most lively manner, as I
reflected on the day's adventure, what a whimsical being Man
is — how the very thing, which in company he might enjoy
with ease and secmity, is often i-endered troublesome and dan-
gerous, from his notion, that he can appropriate to himself the
world and its contents after liis own peculiar fashion.

Towards midnight my host accompanied me to the barque,
carrj-ing the basket of fruit with which Gregorio had presented
me, and thus, -näth a favorable wind, I lett the shore, which
had promised to become a Laestrygonicum shore to me.

And now for my expedition on the lake. It ended happily,
after the noble aspect of the water, and of the adjacent shore
of Brescia had refreshed my very heart. On the western side,
where the mountains cease to be perpendicvdar, and near the
lake, the land becomes more flat, Garignauo, Bojaco, Cecina,
Toscolan, Maderno, Verdom, and Salo, stand aU in a row, and
occupy a reach of about a league and a half; most of them
being built in long streets. No words can express the beauty
of this richly inhabited spot. At 10 o'clock in the morning I
landed at Bartolino, placed my luggage on one mule and my-
self on another. The road went now over a ridge, which
separates the valley of the Etsch from the hollow of the lake.
The primaeval waters seem to have driven against each other
from both sides, in immense currents, and to have raised this
colossal dam of gravel. A fertile soil was deposited upon the
gravel at a quieter period, but the labourer is constantly annoyed
by the appearance of the stones on the surface. Every efibrt is
made to get rid of them, they are piled in rows and layers one on
another, and thus a sort of thick wall is formed along the path.
The mulberry-trees, from a want of moisture, have a dismal
appearance at this elevation. Springs there are none. From
time to time puddles of collected rain-water may be found,
with which the mules and even their drivers quench theh-
thirst. Some wheels are placed on the river beneath, to
water, at pleasm-e, those plantations that have a lower situa-
tion.

The magnificence of the new country, which opens on you
as you descend, surpasses description. It is a garden a mile
long and broad, which lies quite flat at the foot of tall moun-
tains and steep rocks, and is as neatly laid out as possible

26-1 LETTERS FKOJI ITALY.

By this way, about 1 o'clock on the 10th of September, I
reached Verona, v/here I first write this, finish, and put toge-
ther the first part of my diary, and indulge in the pleasing
hope of seeing the amphitheatre in tlie evening.

Concerning the weather of these days I have to make the
following statement : — The night firomthe 9th to the 10th was
alternately clear and cloudy, the moon had alwaj-s a halo
round it. Towards 5 o'clock in the morning all the sky was
overcast with gray, not hea^y clouds, which vanished with the
advance of day. The more I descended the finer was the
weather. As at Botzen the gi-eat mass of the mountains took a
northerly situation, the air displayed quite another quality.
From the different grounds in the landscape, which were
separated from each other in the most picturesque manner, by
a tint more or less blue, it might be seen, that the atmosphere
was full of vapors equally distributed, which it Avas able to
sustain, and which, therefore, neither fell in the shape of dew,
nor were collected in the form of clouds. As I descended
further I could plainly obsene, that all the exhalations from
the Botzen valley, and all the streaks of cloud which ascended
from the more southern mountains, moved towards the higher
northern regions, which they did not cover, but veiled with a
kind of yellow fog. In the remotest distance, over the moun-
tains, I could observe what is called a "water-gull." To the
south of Botzen they have had the finest weather all the sum-
mer, only a little icater (they say aqua to denote a light rain),
from time to time, and then a retirni of sunshine. Yesterday
a few drops occasionally fell, and the sun thi'oughout continued
shining. They have not had so good a year for a long while;
everything turns out well; the bad weather they have sent
to us.

I mention but slightly the mountains and the species of
stone, since Ferber's travels to Italy, and Ilacquefs journey
along the Alps, give sufficient information respecting this
district. A quarter of a league from the Brenner, there is a
marble quany, which I passed at twilight. It may, nay, must
lie upon mica-slate as on the other side. This I fomid near
Colman, just as it dawned; lower down there was an appear-
ance of por[}hjTy. The rocks were so magnificent, and the
heaps wei'e so conveniently broken up aloiig the highway, that
a " Voigt" cabinet might have been made and packed up at

FBOM BRENNER TO VERONA. 265

once. Without any trouble of that kind I can take a piece,
if it is only to accustom my eyes and my cm-iosity to a small
quantity. A little below Colman, I found some porphyry,
which splits into regular plates, and between Brandrol and Neu-
mark some of a similar kind, in which, however, the laminse
separated in pülars. Ferber considered them to be volcanic
productions, but that was fourteen years ago, when all the
world had its head on fire. Even Hacquet ridicules the
notion.

Of the people I can say but little, and that is not very
favorable. On my descent from the Brenner, I discovered,
as soon as day came, a decided change of form, and was
particularly displeased by the pale bro\ATiish complexion of
the women. Their features indicated wretchedness, the chil-
dren looked equally miserable ; — the men somewhat better.
I imagine that the cause of this sickly condition may be
found in the frequent consumption of Indian corn and buck-
wheat. Both the former, which they also call " Yellow
Blende," and the latter, which is called " Black Blende,"
is ground, made into a thick pap with water, and thus eaten.
The Germans on this side, puU out the dough, and fry it in
butter. The Italian Tyrolese, on the contrary, eat it just as
it is, often with scrapings of cheese, and do not taste meat
throughout the year. This necessarily glues up and stops the
alimentary channels, especially with the women and children,
and their cachectic complexion is an indication of the malady.
They also eat fruit and green beans, which they boil down in
water, and mix with oil and garlic. I asked if there were no
rich peasants. " Yes, indeed," was the reply. " Don't they
indulge themselves at all? don't they eat anything better?"
" No, they are used to it." " What do they do with their
money then? how do they lay it out?" "Oh, they have
their ladies, who relieve them of that." This is the sum
and substance of a conversation with mine host's daughter at
Botzen.

I also learned fi-om her, that the vine-tillers were the worst
ofi", although they appeared to be the most opulent, for they
were in the hands of commercial to^vns-people, who advanced
them enough to support life in the bad seasons, and in winter
took their wine at a low price. However, it is the same
thing everpvhere.

266 LETTERS mojr italt.

]\Iy opinion concerning the food is confirmed by the fact,
that the Avomen M'bo inhabit the towns appeal- better and
better. Tliey have pretty phimp girlish faces, the body is
somewhat too short in proportion to the stoutness, and the
size of the head, but sometimes the countenances have a most
agreable expression. The men we ah-eady know through the
wandering Tp'olese. In the eountiy their appeaiT.nce is less
fi'esh than that of the women, perhaps because the latter have
more bodily labour, and are more in motion, while the former
sit at home as ti-aders and workmen. By the Garda Lake I
found the people very bro«"n, without the slightest tinge of
red in their cheeks; however they did not look unhealthy,
but quite fresh and comfortable. Probably the burning sun-
beams, to which they are exposed at the foot of their mo\m-
tains, are the cause of their complexion.

FROM VERONA TO ^'EXICE.

Verona, Sept. 16th.

"Well then, the amphitheati-e is the first important monu-
ment of the old times that I have seen — and how well it is
preserved ! ^Mien I entered, and still more when I walked
roimd the edge of it at the top, it seemed strange to me, that I
saw something great, and yet, properly speaking, saw nothing.
Besides I do not Hke to see it empt}% I should Hke to see it
full of people, just as, in modern times, it was filled up in
honour of Joseph I. and Pius VI. The Emperor, although
his eye was accustomed to human masses, must have been
astonished. But it was only in the earliest times, that it
produced its full effect, when the peoj^le was more a people
than it is now. For, properly speaking, such an amphitheatre
is constructed to give the people an imposing view of itself, —
to cajole itself.

When anything worth seeing occurs on the level gi'oimd,
and any one runs to the spot, the hindennost try bv every
means to raise themselves above the foremost; they get
upon benches, roll casks, bring up vehicles, lay planks in every
direction, occupy the neighbouring heights, and a crater is
formed in no time.

VERONA. 267

If the spectacle occur frequently on the same spot, light
scaffoldings are built for those who are able to pay, and the
rest of the multitude must get on as it can. Here the problem
of the architect is to satisfy this general want. By means of
his art he prepares such a crater, making it as simple as possible,
that the people itself may constitute the decoration. A\Tien the
populace saw itself so assembled, it must have been astonished
at the sight, for whereas it was only accustomed to see itself
nmning about in confusion, or to find itself crowded together
without particular rule or order, so must this many-headed,
many-minded, wandering animal now see itself combined into
a noble body, made into a definite unity, bound and seciu"ed
into a mass, and animated as one form by one mind. The
simplicity of the oval is most pleasingly obvious to every eye,
and every head serves as a measm-e to show the vastness of the
whole. Now we see it empty, we have no standard, and do
not know whether it is large or small.

The Veronese deserve commendation for the high preserva-
tion in which this edifice is kept. It is built of a reddish
marble, which has been affected by the atmosphere, and hence
the steps which have been eaten, are continually restored, and
look almost all new. An inscription makes mention of one
HieronjTuus Maiirigenus, and of the incredible industry, which
he has expended on this monument. Of the outer wall only
a piece remains, and I doubt whether it was ever quite
finished. The lower arches, which adjoin the large square,
called " II Bra," are let out to workmen, and the reanimation
of these arcades produces a cheerful appearance.

Verona, Sept. 16.

The most beautiful gate, which, however, always remains
closed, is called " Porta stupa," or " del PaUio." As a gate,
and considering the great distance from which it is first seen,
it is not well conceived, and it is rot till we come near it,
that we recognise the beauty of the structure.

AU sorts of reasons are given to account for its being closed.
I have, however, a conjecture of my otvti. It was manifestly
the intention of the artist to cause a new Corso to be laid out
from this gate, for the situation, or the present street, is com-
pletely wrong. On the left side there is nothing but barracks;

268 LETTERS FEOil ITALY.

and the line at right angles from the middle of the gate leads to
a convent of iiims, which must certainly have come down.
This was presently perceived, and besides the rich and higher
classes might not have liked to settle in the remote quarter.
The artist perhaps died, and therefore the door was closed,
and so an end was put to the affair.

Verona, Sejjf. 16.

The portico of the theatre, consisting of six large Ionic
columns, looks handsome enough. So much the more pimy
is th<3 appearance of the Marchese di Maffei's bust, which as
large as life, and in a great M'ig, stands over the door, and in
front of a painted niche, which is supported by two Corinthian
columns. The position is honorable, but to be in some degree
proportionate to the magnitude and solidity of the columns,
the bust should have been colossal. But now placed as it is
on a corbel, it has a mean appearance, and is by no means
in harmony with the whole.

The gallery, which incloses the fore-court, is also small,
and the chamielled Doric dwarfs have a mean appearance by
the side of the smooth Ionic giants. But we pardon this dis-
crepancy on account of the fine institution, which has been
founded among the columns. Here is kept a number of antiqui-
ties, which have mostly been dug up in and about Verona.
Something, they say, has even been found in the Amphi-
theatre. There are Etruscan, Greek, and Roman specimens,
down to the latest times, and some even of more modem
date. The bas-rehefs are inserted in the walls, and provided
■with the numbers, which Matfei gave them, when he described
them in his work : " Verona illtistrata.''' There are altars,
fragments of columns, and other relics of the sort ; an ad-
mirable tripod of white marble, upon which there are genii
occupied with the attributes of the gods. Raphael has
imitated and improved this kind of thing in the scrolls of
the Farnesina.

The wind which blows from the graves of the ancients,
comes fragrantly over hills of roses. The tombs give touching
evidences of a genuine feeling, and always bring Life back to
us. Here is a man, by the side of his wife, who peeps out of
a niche, as if it were a window. Here are father and mother,

TEEONA. 269

With their son between them, eyeing each other as naturally
as possible. Here a couple are grasping each other's hands.
Here a father, resting on his couch, seems to be amused by his
family. The immediate proximity of these stones was to me
highly touching. They belong to a later school of art, but
are simple, natural, and generally pleasing. Here a man in
armour is on his knees in expectation of a joyful resurrection.
With more or less of talent the artist has produced the mere
simple presence of the persons, and has thus given a perma-
nent continuation to their existence. They do not fold their
hands, they do not look towards heaven, but they are here
below just what they were and just what they are. They
stand together, take interest in each other, love one another,
and this is charmingly expressed on the stone, though with a
certain want of technical skill. A marble pillar, very richly
adorned, gave me more new ideas.

Laudable as this institution is, we can plainly perceive that
the noble spirit of preservation, by which it was founded, is
no longer continued. The valuable tripod will soon be
ruined, placed as it is in the open air, and exposed to the
weather towards the west. This treasure might easily be
preserved in a wooden case.

The palace of the Proveditore. which is begun, might have
afforded a fine specimen of architecture, if it had been finished.
Generally speaking, the nobili build a great deal, but uufor-
timately every one builds on the site of his former residence,
and often, therefore, in narrow lanes. Thus, for instance, a
magnificent facade to a seminary is now building in an alley
of tbe remotest suburb.

Wliile, with a guide, whom I had accidentally picked up, I
passed before the great solemn gate of a singular building, he
asked me good-humourdly, whether I should not like to step
into the court for a while. It was the palace of justice, and
the court, on account of the height of the building, looked
only like an enormous wall. Here, he told me, all the crimi-
nals and suspicious persons are confined. I looked around,
and saw that round all the stories there were open passages'
fitted with iron balustrades, which passed by numerous doors'
The prisoner, as he stepped out of his dungeon to be led to

270 LETTERS FKOM ITALY.

trial, stood in the open air, and was exposed to the gaze of
all passers, and because there were several trial-rooms,
the chains were rattling, now over this, now over that pas-
sage, in every story. It was a hateful sight, and I do not
deny that the good humour, with which I had dispatched my
"Bii-ds," might here have come into a strait.

I walked at sunset upon the margin of the crater-like am-
phitheatre, and enjoyed the most splendid prospect over the
town and the surrounding country. I was quite alone, and
multitudes of people were passing below me on the hard
stones of the Bra ; men of all ranks, and women of the middle-
ranks were walking. The latter in their black outer garments
look, in this bird's-eye view, like so many mummies.

The Zendale and the Veste, which serves this class in the
place of an entire wardrobe, is a costume completely fitted for
a people that does not care much for cleanliness, and yet
always likes to appear in public, sometimes at chui'ch, some-
times on the promenade. The Vesfe is a gown of black
taffeta, which is thrown over other gowns. If the lady has a
clean white one beneath, she contrives to lift up the black one on
one side. This is fastened on so, as to cut the waist, and to
cover the lappets of a corset, which may be of any colom*.
The Zendale is a large hood with long cars ; the hood itself is
kept high above the head by a wire-frame, while the ears are
fastened round the body like a scarf, so that the ends faU
dowTi behind.

Verona, Sept. 16.

When I again left the Arena to-day, I came to a modern
public spectacle, about a thousand paces from the spot.
Four noble Veronese were playing ball against four people of
Vicenza. This pastime is carried on among the Veronese
themselves aU the year round, about two hours before night.
On this occasion there was a far larger concourse of people
than usual, on account of the foreign adversaries. The specta-
tors seem to have amounted to four or five thousand. I did
not see women of any rank.

"V\Tien, a little while ago, I spoke of the necessities of the
multitude in such a case, I described the natural accidental

YEEONA. 271

amphitheatre as arising just in the maimer, in which I saw
the people raised one over another on this occasion. Even at
a distance I could hear the lively clapping of hands, which
accompanied every important stroke. The game is played as
follows : Two boards, shghtly inclined, are placed at a con-
venient distance from each other. He who strikes off the
ball stands at the higher end, his right hand is armed with a
broad wooden ring, set with spikes. While another of his
part\- throws the ball to him, he runs down to meet it, and
thus increases the force of the blow with which he stiikes it.
The adversaries try to beat it back, and thus it goes back-
wards and forwards tiU, at last, it remains on the ground.
The most beautifiü attitudes, worthy of being imitated in
marble, are thus produced. As there are none but well-
grown active yoimg people, in a short, close, white dress, the
parties are only distinguished by a yellow mark. Particularly
beautiful is the attitude into which the man on the eminence
falls, when he runs down the inclined plain, and raises his
arm to strike the ball ; — ^it approaches that of the Borghesiaa
gladiator.

It seemed strange to me that they carry on this exercise by
an old lime-wall, without the slightest convenience for specta!-
tors ; why is it not done in the amphitheatre, where there
woidd be such ample room ?

Verona, September 17.

"WTiat I have seen of pictm-es I will but briefly touch upon,
and add some remarks. I do not make this extraordinary
tour for the sake of deceiving myself, but to become acquainted
with myself by means of these objects. I therefore honestly
confess that of the painters art — of his manipulation, I vmder-
stand but little. My attention, and observation, can only be
dii'ected to the practical part, to the subject, and the general
treatment of it.

S. Georgio is a galleiy of good pictures, all altar-pieces,
and all remarkable, if not of equal value. But what subjects
were the hapless artists obliged to paint? And for whom?
Perhaps a shower of manna thirty feet long, and twenty feet
high, with the miracle of the loaves as a companion. '\Miat could
be made of these subjects : Himgiy men falling on little grains.

272 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

and a countless multitude of others, to whom bread is handed.
The artists have racked their invention in order to get some-
thing striking out of such wretched subjects. And yet,
stimulated by the urgency of the case, genius has produced
some beautiful things. An artist, who had to paint S. Ursida
with the eleven thousand virgins, has got over the difficulty cle-
verlv enough. The saint stands in the foreground, as if she liai
conquered the country. She is very noble, like an Amazonia '
^-irgin, and without any enticing channs; on the other hand,
her troop is shown descending from the ships, and moving in.
procession at a diminishing distance. The Assumption of tha
Virgin, by Titian, in the dome, has become much blackened,
and it is a thought worthy of praise that, at the moment of her
apotheosis, she looks not towards heaven, but towards her
friends below.

In the Gherardini Gallery I found some verA' fine things by
Orbitto. and for the first time became acquainted with this meri-
torious artist. At a distance we only hear of the first artists, and
then we are often contented with names only; but when we
di'aw nearer to this starr}' sky, and the luminaries of the
second and third magnitude also begin to twinkle, each one
coming forward and occupying his proper place in the whole
con.stellation, then the world becomes wide, and art becomes
rich. I must here commend the conception of one of the
pictures. Sampson has gone to sleep in the lap of Dalilah, and
she has softly stretched her hand over him to reach a pair of
scissors, which lies near the lamp on the table. The execu-
tion is admirable. In the Canopa Palace I observed a Danäe.

The Be\'ilagua Palace contains the most valuable things. A
picture by Tintoretto, which is called a " Paradise,"' but
■which, in fact, represents the Coronation of the "\"irgin Mary
as Queen of Heaven, in the presence of all the patriarchs,
prophets, apostles, saints, angels, &c., affords an opportunity
for displaying aU the riches of the most felicitous genius.
To admire and enjoy all that care of manipidation, that spirit
and variety of expression, it is necessary to possess the pic-
ture, and to have it before one all one's life. The painter's
work is carried on ad infinitmn ; even the farthest angels' heads,
which are vanishing in the halo, preserve something of cha-
racter. The largest figures may be about a foot high ; Mary,
and the Christ who is crowning her, about four inches. Ere

is, however, the finest woman in the picture; a little volup-
tuous, as from time immemorial.

A couple of portraits by Paul Veronese have only increased
my veneration for that artist. The collection of antiquities is
very fine ; there is a son of Xiobe extended in death, which is
highly valuable ; and the busts, including an Augustus with
the ci-vic crown, a Caligula, and others, are mostly of great
interest, notwithstanding the restoration of the noses.

It lies in my nature to admire, willingly and joyfully, all
that is great and beautiful, and the cultivation of this talent,
day after day, hour after hour, by the inspection of such beau-
tiful objects, produces the happiest feelings.

In a land, where we enjoy the days but take especial
delight in the evenings, the time of nightfall is highly impor-
tant. For now work ceases ; those who have gone out walk-
ing turn back ; the father wishes to have his daughter home
again ; the day has an end. "\Miat the day is we Cimmerians
hardly know. In our eternal mist and fog it is the same
thing to lis, whether it be day or night, for how much time
can we really pass and enjoy in the open air : Xow, when
night sets in, the day, which consisted of a morning and an
evening, is decidedly past, four and twenty hours are gone,
the bells ring, the rosary is taken in hand, and the maid,
entering the chamber Avith the lighted lamp, says, " felicissi-
ma notte." This epoch varies -«-ith every season, and a man
who lives here in actual life cannot go wi-ong, because all the
enjoyments of his existence are regulated not by the nominal
hour, but by the time of day. If the people were forced to
use a German clock they would be perplexed, for their own
is intimately connected with their natui-e. About an hour
and a half, or an hour before midnight, the nobüity begin to
ride out. They proceed to the Piazza deUa Bra, along the
long, broad street to the Porta Xuova out at the gate, and
along the city, and when night sets in, they all return home.
Sometimes they go to the churches to say their Ave Maria
della sera ; sometimes they keep on the Bra, where the cava-
liers step up to the coaches and converse for a while with the
ladies. The foot passengers remain till a late hour of night,
but I have never stopped till the last. To-day just enough
rain had fallen to la^- the dust, and the spectacle was most
cheei-ful and animated.

Vol. II. T

274 LETTEES FEOir ITALY.

That I may accommodate myself the better to the custom of
the coviutiy I have devised a plan for mastering more easily the
Italian method of reckoning the houi-s. The accompaning
diagram may give an idea of it. The inner cu'cle denotes
OUT four and twent}' hours, from midnight to midnight, di^^ided
into twice twelve, as we reckon, and as ovu* clocks indicate.
The middle circle shows hoAv the clocks strike at the present
season, namely, as much as twelve twice in the twenty-four
hom-s, but in such a way that it strikes one, when it strikes
eight with us, and so on tUl the number twelve is complete.
At eight o'clock in the morning according to our clock it
again sti'ikes one, and so on. Finally the outer circle shows
how the four and twenty houi's are reckoned in actual life.
For example, I hear seven o'clock striking in the night, and
know that midnight is at five o'clock; I therefore deduct the
latter number from the former, and thus have two hom-s after
midnight. If I hear seven o'clock strike in the day-time, and
know that noon is at five, I proceed in the same way, and
thus have two in the afternoon. But if I wish to express the
houi" according to the fashion of this country, I must know
that noon is seventeen o'clock ; I add the two, and get nine-
teen o'clock. WTien this method is heard and thought of for
the fii"st time, it seems extremely confused and difficult to
manage, but we soon gi'ow accustomed to it and find the
occupation amusing. The people themselves take dehght in
this perpetual calculation, just as children are pleased -«ith
easily sxirmounted difficulties. Indeed they always have their
fingers in the air, make any calculation in their heads, and
like to occupy themselves with figm*es. Besides to the
inhabitant of the country the matter is so much the easier,
as he really does not trouble himself about noon and mid-
night, and does not, like the foreign resident, compare two
clocks with each other. They only count from the evening
the hom-s, as they stiike, and in the day-time they add the
number to the vaiying number of noon, with which they are
acquainted. The rest is explained by the remarks appended
to the diagram :—

COMPARATH'E TABLE
of

ger:max A^^) italiax tdie,

WITH THE HOrKS OF THE IT.VLIAX SCX-DIAL FOK THE LATTER
HALF OF SEPTEMBER.

3IIDXIGHT,

The night lengthens half an hour
every fortnight.

Timeofnisbt Midnfeht
Uonth. Day. as shewri by consequently
German clocks, falls about.

August

1

U

—

15

8

Sept.

1

7i

—

15

7

October

1

6*

—

15

6

Nov.

1

5t

—

15

5

The day lengthens half an hour
every fortnight.

Timeofnislit Midnirtt
Moatta. Day. as shewn by consequently
German clocks, falls abont.

6i

6

5i

5

4+

4

3

3

•Ja

Febr.

1

5

4

—

15

6

ii

March

1

6

5

—

15

7

5i

April

1

7-

6

—

15

8

6i

May

1

8-

7

—

15

9

From this date the time remains From this date the time remains
constant and it is : — ; constant and it is : —

XIGHT. MIDNIGHT. XIGHT. MIDXIGHT.

Dec.
Jan.

June
July

T 2

276 XETTERS FROM ITALY.

Verona, Sept. 17.

The people here jostle one another actively enough; the
narrow streets, where shops and workmen's stalls are thickly
crowded together, have a particularly cheerful look. There is
no such thing as a door in front of the shop or workroom ; the
whole breadth of the house is open, and one may sec all that
passes in the interior. Half-way out into the path, the
tailors are sewing ; and the cobblers are pulling and rapping ;
indeed the work-stalls make a part of the street. In the
evening, when the lights are burning, the appearance is most
lively.

The squares are very full on market days ; there are fruit
and vegetables -n-ithout number, and garlic- and onions to the
heart's desire. Then again tliroughout the day there is a
ceaseless screaming, bantering, singing, squalling, huzzaing,
and laughing. The mildness of the air, and the cheapness of
the food, make subsistence easy. Eveiything possible is done
in the open air.

At nio;ht sino-ing and all sorts of noises begin. The ballad of
'■• Marlhrook" is heard in every street ; — then comes a dulcimer,
then a A-iolin. They tiy to imitate all the bii-ds with a pipe.
The strangest sounds are heard on every side. A mild climate
can give this exquisite enjoyment of mere existence, even to
poverty, and the very shadow of the people seems respectable.

The want of cleanliness and convenience, which so much
strikes us in the houses, arises from the following cause : — the
inhabitants are always out of doors, and in their Iight-hearted-
ness think of nothing. With the people all goes right, even
the middle-class man just lives on from day to day, while the
rich and genteel shut themselves up in their dwellings, which
are not so habitable as in the north. Society is found in the
open streets. Fore-courts and colonnades are all soiled Avith
filth, for things are done in the most natural manner. The
people always feel their way before them. The rich man
may be rich, and build his palaces ; and the nobile may rule, but
if he makes a colonnade or a fore-court, the people will make
use of it for their OA\^l occasions, and have no more urgent
wish than to get rid as soon as possible, of that which they
have taken as often as possible. If a person cannot bear this,
he miist not play the great gentleman, that is to say, he must
act as if a part of his dwelling belonged to the pubKc. He

VERONA — VICENZA. 277

may shut his door, and all will be right. But in open build-
ings the people are not to be debarred of their pri\ileges, and
this, throughout Italy, is a nuisance to the foreigner.

To-day I remarked in several streets of the town, the
customs and manners of the middle-classes especially, who
appear verj- numerous and busy. They swing their arms as
they walk. Persons of a high rank, who on certain occa-
sions wear a sword, swing only one arm, being accustomed to
hold the left arm still.

Although the people are careless enough with respect to
their own wants and occupations, they have a keen eye for
everything foreign. Thus in the very first days, I observed
that every one took notice of my boots, because here they are
too expensive an article of dress to wear even in winter. Now
I wear shoes and stockings nobody looks at me. Particularly
I noticed this morning, when all were running about A\'ith
flowers, vegetables, garlic, and other market-stuff, that a t-näg
of cypress, which I carried in my hand, did not escape them.
Some green cones hung upon it, and I held in the same hand
some blooming cajjcr-twigs. Everybody, large and small,
watched mc closely, and seemed to entertain some whimsical
thought.

I brought these twigs from the Giusti garden, Avhich is
finely situated, and in which there are monstrous cypresses,
all pointed up like spikes into the air. The Taxus, which in
northern gardening we find cut to a sharp point, is probably an
imitation of this splendid natural product. A tree, the
branches of which, the oldest as well as the yoimgest, are
striving to reach heaven, — a tree which will last its three
himdred years, is well worthy of veneration. Judging fi-om
the time when this garden was laid out, these trees have
already attained that advanced age.

Vicenza, Sept. 19.
The way from Verona hither is very pleasant: we go
north-eastwards along the mountains, always keepino- to the
left the foremost mountains, which consist of sand, lime, clav,
and marl ; the hills which they form, are dotted with villages,
castles, and houses. To the right extends the broad plain,
along which the road goes. The straight broad path, wliich is

278 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

in good preservation, goes through a fertue field; we look
into deep avenues of trees, up which the vines are trained
to a considerable height, and then di-op down, like pendant
branches. Here we can get an admh-able idea of festoons I
The gi-apes are ripe, and are heavy on the tendrils, which hang
down long and ti-embling. The road is filled with people of
every class and occupation, and I was particularly pleased by
some carts, with low solid Avheels, which, with teams of fijie
oxen, carry the large vats, in which the grapes from the
vineyards are put and pressed. The diivers rode in them
when they were empty, and the whole was like a triumphal
procession of Bacchanals. Between the ranks of vines the
ground is used for all sorts of grain, especially Indian com
and miUet (^Sorgel).

As one goes towards Yicenza, the hills again rise from
north to south and enclose the plain ; they are, it is said, vol-
canic. Vicenza lies at their foot, or if you will, in a bosom
which they form.

Vicenza, Sept. 19.
Though I have been here only a few hom-s, I have already
run through the town, and seen the Ohonpian theatre, and the
buildings of Palladio. A very pretty little book is pubUshed
here, for the convenience of foreigners, -vvith copper-plates and
some letter-press, that shows knowledge of art. When once
one stands in the presence of these works, one immediately
perceives their great value, for they ai-e calculated to fiU the
eye with their actual greatness and massiveness, and to satisfy
the mind by the beautifid harmony of their dimensions, not
only in abstract sketches, but with all the prominences and
distances of perspective. Therefore I say of Palladio : he was
a man really and intrinsically great, whose greatness was out-
wardlv manifested. The chief difficult)' with which this man,
like all modem architects, had to struggle, was the suitable
application of the orders of colmnns to bidldings for domestic
or pubhc use ; for there is always a contradiction in the com-
bination of columns and walls. But with what success has
he not worked them up together ! 'N'^Tiat an imposing eflfect
has the aspect of his edifices : at the sight of them one almost
forgets that he is attempting to reconcile us to a violation of

TICEXZA. 279

the rules of his ait. There is, indeed, something divine
about his designs, which may be exactly compared to the crea-
tions of the great poet, who, out of truth and flilsehood
eUiborates something between both, and charms us with its
borrowed existence.

The Olympic theatre is a theatre of the ancients, realized
on a small scale, and indescribably beautiful. However, com-
pared with our theatres, it reminds me of a genteel, rich,
well-bred child, contrasted with a shrewd man of the world,
who, though he is neither so rich, nor so genteel, and well-
bred, knows better how to employ his resom-ces.

If we contemplate, on the spot, the noble buildings which
Palladio has erected, and see how they ai-e disfigured by the
mean filthy necessities of the people, how the plans of most
of them exceeded the means of those who imdertook them, and
how Httle these precious monuments of one lofty mind are
adapted to all else around, the thought occurs, that it is
just the same with everything else : for we receive but little
thanks fi-om men, when we woiüd elevate their internal aspira-
tions, give them a gi-eat idea of themselves, and make them
feel the grandeur of a really noble existence. But when one
cajoles them, tells them tales, and helping them on from day
to day, makes them worse, then one is just the man they like;
and hence it is that modem times take delight in so many
absurdities. I do not say this to lower my friends, I only
say that they are so, and that people must not be astonished
to find everything just as it is.

How the Basilica of Palladio looks by the side of an old
castellated kind of a building, dotted all over -«ith windows
of different sizes (whose removal, tower and aU, the artist
evidently contemplated), — it is impossible to describe — and
besides I must now, by a strange effort, compress my own
feeHngs, for, I too, alas I find here side by side both what I
seek and what I flv from.

Sejjt. 20.

Yesterday we had the opera, which lasted tül midnight, and

I was glad to get some rest. The three Sultanesses and the

Rape of the 8ei-aglio have afforded several tatters, out of which

the piece has been patched up, with very little skill. The

280 LEITERS FEOM ITALY.

music is agreeable to the ear, but is probably by an amateur;
for r.ot a single thought struck me as being new. The ballets,
on the other hand, were channing. The principle pair of
dancers executed an Allcma7ide to perfection.

The theatre is new. pleasant, beautiful, modestly magnifi-
cent, imifonn throughout, just as it ought to be in a provincial
town. Every box has hangings of the same color, and the
one belonging to the Capitan Grande, is only distinguished
from the rest, by the fact that the hangings are somewhat
longer.

The prima donna, who is a gi-eat favorite of the whole peo-
ple, is ti'emendously applauded, on her entrance, and the
"gods" are quite obstreperous with their delight, when she
does ami;hing rcmai'kably well, which very often happens*.
Her manners are natm^al, she has a pretty figure, a fine
voice, a pleasing countenance, and, above all, a really modest
demeanour, while there mio;ht be more grace in the arms.
However, I am not what I was, I feel that I am spoiled, I am
spoiled for a "god."

Sept. 21.

To-day I visited Dr. Tm-a. Five years ago he passionately
devoted himself to the study of plants, formed a herbarium of
the Italian flora, and laid out a botanical garden under the
superintendence of the former bishop. Hovrcver, all that has
come to an end. Medical practice drove away natural
history, the herbarium is eaten by worms, the bishop is dead,
and the botanic garden is again rationally planted with cab-
bafjes and "-arlic.

Dr. Tura is a verj' refined and good man. He told me his
historj- with frankness, pui-ity of mind, and modesty, and
altogether spoke in a very definite and afihble manner. At
the same time he did not like to open his cabinets, which per-
haps were in no verj- presentable condition. Our conversa-
tion soon came to a stand-still.

Sept. 21. Evening.
I called upon the old architect Scamozzi, who has published
an edition of Palladio's buildings, and is a diligent artist, pas-
sionately devoted to his art. He gave me some dii^ections»,

VICENZA. 281

being delighted with my sympathy. Among Palladio's build-
ings there is one, for which I always had an especial predi-
lection, and which is said to have been his own residence.
Allien it is seen close, there is far more in it than appears in
a picture. I shoidd have liked to di-aw it, and to illuminate it
■with colors, to show the material and the age. It must not,
however, be imagined that the architect has built himself a
palace. The house is the most modest in the world, with only
two windows, separated from each other by a broad space,
which would admit a third. If it were imitated in a pictiire,
■which shoidd exhibit the neighbouring houses at the same
time, the spectator would be pleased to obsen"e how it has
been let in between them. Canaletto was the man who should
have painted it.

To-day I visited the splendid building Avhich stands on a
pleasant elevation about half a league from the town, and is
called the "Rotonda." It is a quadrangular building, enclo-
sing a circular haU, lighted from the top. On all the four
sides, you ascend a broad flight of steps, and always come to
a vestibule, which is formed of six Corinthian columns. Pro-
bably the luxury of architecture was never carried to so
high a point. The space occupied by the steps and vestibules
is much larger than that occupied by the house itself; for
every one of the sides is as gi'and and pleasing as the front of
a temple. With respect to the inside it may be called
habitable, but not comfortable. The hall is of the finest pro-
portions, and so are the chambers ; but they would hardly
suffice for the actual wants of any genteel family in a sum-
mer-residence. On the other hand it presents a most beau-
tiful appearance, as it is ■shewed on every side tliroughout
the district. The variety which is produced by the principal
mass, as, together with the projecting columns, it is gradually
brought before the eyes of the spectator who walks round
it, is very great ; and the purpose of the owner, who ^^ ished to
leave a large trust-estate, and at the same time a visible
monument of his wealth, is completely obtained. And while
the building appears in all its magnificence, when viewed
from any spot in the district, it also forms the point of view for
a most agreeable prospect. You may see the Bachiglione

282 LETTERS FKOM ITALY.

flowing along, and taking vessels do'wn from Verona to the
Brenta, while yon overlook the extensive possessions which the
Marquis Capra wished to preserve undivided in his familv.
The inscriptions on the four gable-ends, which together con-
stitute one whole, are worthy to be noted do^vn :

Marcus Capra Gabrielis filius

Qui asdes has
Ai'ctissimo primogenitura? gradui subjecit

Una cum omnibus
Censibus agris vallibus et eollibus

Citra viam magnam
Memoriae perpetuce mandans haec

Dum sustinet ac abstinet.

The conclusion in partictilar is strange enough. A man
who has at command so much wealth and such a capacious
wiU, still feels that he must hear and forbear. This can. be
learned at a less expense.

Sept. 22.

This evening I was at a meeting held by the academy of
the " 01\Tnpiaus." It is mere play- work, but good in its
way, and seems to keep up a little spice and life among the
people. There is the great hall by Palladio"s theatre, hand-
somely lighted up ; the Capitan and a portion of the nobihty
are present, besides a pubHc composed of educated persons,
and several of the clergy; the whole assembly amounting to
about five hundi'ed.

The question proposed by the president for to-day's sitting
was this: " "NVliich has been most serviceable to the fine arts,
invention or imitation r ' ' Tliis was a hajipy notion, for if the
alternatives which are involved in the question are kept duly
apart, one may go on debating for centuries. The acade-
micians have gallantly availed themselves of the occasion, and
have produced all sorts of things in prose and verse, — some
ver}' good.

Then there is the liveliest piiblic. The audience cry bravo,
and clap their hands and laugh. What a thing it is to stand
thus before one's nation, and amuse them in person! We
must set down our best productions in black and white; every

TICEXZA. 283

one squats dowii with them in a corner, and scribbles at tliem
as he can.

It may be imagined that even on this occasion Palladio
would be continually appealed to, whether the discourse was ia
favour of invention or imitation. At the end, which is always
the right place for a joke, one of the speakers hit on a happy
thought, and said that the others had already taken Palladio
away fi'om him, so that he, for his pai't, would praise Fi-an-
ceschini, the gi'eat silk-manufactiu"er. He then began to
show the advantages which this enterprising man, and
thi'ough him the city of Vicenza, had derived from imitating
the Lvonnese and Florentine stuffs, and thence came to the
conclusion that imitation stands far above invention. This
was done with so much humoiu', that iminterrapted laughter
was excited. Generally those who spoke in favor of imitation
obtained the most applause, for they said nothing but what
was adapted to the thoughts and capacities of the multitude.
Once the public, by a A^iolent clapping of hands, gave its
hearty approval to a most clumsy sophism, when it had not
felt many good — nay, excellent things, that had been said in
honour of invention. I am very glad I have witnessed this
scene, for it is highly gratifying to see Palladio, after the
lapse of so long a time, still honom-ed by his fellow-citizens,
as their polar-star and model.

Sq)t. 22.

This morning I was at Tiene. which lies north towards the
mountains, where a new building has been erected after an
old plan, of which there may be a little to say. Thus do they
here honom* eveiything that belongs to the good period, and
have sense enough to raise a new building on a plan which
they have inherited. The chateau is excellently situated in a
large plain, having behind it the calcareotis Alps, without
any mountains intervening. A stream of living water flows
along the level causeway fi'om each side of the building,
towards those who approach it, and waters the broad fields of
rice throtigh which one passes.

I have now seen but two Italian cities, and for the first time,
and have spoken with but few persons, and yet I know my
Italians pretty well. They are Hke courtiei-s, who consider

284 XETTEKS from; ITALY.

themselves the first people in the world, and who, on the
strength of certain advantages, which cannot be denied them,
can indulge with impunity in so comfortable a thought. The
Italians appear to me a right good people. Only one must
see the childi'en and the common people as I see them now,
and can see them, while I am always open to them, — nay,
always lay myself open to them. ^Vliat figures and faces
there are !

It is especially to be commended in the Yicentians, that
with them one enjoys the privileges of a large city. What-
ever a person does, they do not stare at him, but if he
addresses them, they are conversable and pleasant, especially
the women, who please me much. I do not mean to find
fault with the Veronese women; they are well made and
have a decided pupil, but they are, for the most part, pale.
and the Zendal is to their disadvantage, because one looks for
something charming imder the beautiful costume. I have
found here some very pretty creatures, especially some with
black locks, who inspire me with peculiar interest. There are
also fairer beauties who, however, do not please me so well.

Padua, Sept. 26, JEvenwff.

In four hours I have this day come here from Yiccnza,
crammed luggage and all into a little one-seated chaise,
called a ''Sediola.'' Generally the journey is performed with
ease in tlxree hours and a half, but as I wished to pass the
delightful day-time in the open air, I was glad that the J^ei-
tiirino fell short of his duty. The route goes constantly south-
wards over the most fertile plains, and between hedges and
trees, without fui'ther prospect, imtil at last the beautiful
mountains, extending from the east towards the south, are
seen on the right hand. The abundance of the festoons of
plants and fruit, which hang over walls and hedges, and down
the trees, is indescribable. The roofs are loaded with gourds,
and the strangest sort of cucumbers are hanging from poles
and trellises.

From the observatoiy I could take the clearest survey pos-
sible of the fine situation of tlie tovsm. Towards the north
are the Tyrolese mountains, covered with snow, and half
hidden by clouds, and joined by the Vicentiau moimtains on

PADUA. 285

the north-west. Then towards the west are the nearer moun-
tains of Este, the shapes and recesses of which are plainly to
be seen. Towards the south-east is a verdant sea of plants,
without a trace of elevation, tree after tree, bush after bush,
plantation after plantation, while houses, villas, and chui-ches,
dazzling with whiteness, peer out from among the gi-een.
Against the horizon I plainly saw the tower of St. Mark's at
Venice, with other smaller towers.

Pachia, Sept. 17.

I have at last obtained the works of Palladio, not indeed
the original edition, which I saw at Vicenza, where the cuts
are in wood, but a fac-simile in copper, published at the
expense of an excellent man, named Smith, Avho was formerly
the English consul at Venice. We must give the English this
credit, that they have long kno^vn how to prize what is good,
and have a magnificent way of diffusing it.

On the occasion of this purchase I entered a book-shop,
which in Italy presents quite a peculiar appearance. Ai'ound
it are arranged the books, all stitched, and during the whole
day good society may be found in the shop, which is a loimge
for all the secular clergy, nobiUty, and artists who are in any
way connected with literature. One asks for a book, opens
it. and amuses himself as one can. Thus I found a knot of
half a dozen all of whom became attentive to me, when I
asked for the works of Palladio. While the master of the
shop looked for the book, they conmiended it, and gave me infor-
mation respecting the original and the copy ; they were well
acquainted with the work itself and \vith the merits of the author.
Taking me for an architect they praised me for having recourse
to this master in preference to aU the rest, saying that he was
of more practical utility than Vitru"sius himself, since he had
thoroughly studied the ancients and antiquity, and had sought
to adapt the latter to the wants of our own times. I con-
versed for a long time with these friendly men, learned some-
thing about the remarkable objects in the city, and took my
leave.

Where men have built churches to saints, a place may some-
times be found in them, where monuments to intellectual
men may be set up. The bust of Cardinal Bembo stands

286 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

between Ionic columns. It is a handsome face, strongly drawn
in, ii" I may use the expi'ession, and with a copious beard.
The inscription rmis thus : " Petri Bembi Card, imaginem
Hier. Guerinus Ismeni f. in pubHco ponendam cm-avit ut
cujus ingenii monmnenta ceterna sint, ejus corporis quoque
memoria ne a posteritate desideretm*."

With all its dignity the University gave me the horrors, as a
building. I am glad that I had nothing to leara in it. One cannot
imagine such a narrow compass for a school, even though,
as the stvident of a German imiversity, one may have suffered
a great deal on the benches of the Auditorium. The anato-
mical theatre is a perfect model of the art of pressing students
together. The audience are piled one above another in a tall
pointed funnel. They look down upon the nan-ow space
where the table stands, and, as no daylight falls upon it, the
Professor must demonstrate by lamplight. The botanic gar-
den is much more pretty and cheerful. Several plants can
remain in the ground during tlie winter, if they are set near
the walls, or at no great distance from them. At the end of
October the whole is built over, and the process of heating is
can'ied on for the few remaining months. It is pleasant and
instructive to walk thi-ough a vegetation that is strange to us.
"With ordinary plants, as well as with other objects that have
been long familiar to us, we at last do not think at all, and
what is looking without thinking ? Amidst this variety which
comes upon me quite new, the idea that all forms of plants
may, perhaps, be developed from a single form, becomes more
lively than ever. On this principle alone it would be possible
to define orders and classes, which, it seems to me, has hitherto
been done in a very arbitrary manner. At this point I stand
fast in my botanical philosophy, and I do not see how I am to
extricate myself. The depth and breadth of this business
seem to me quite equal.

The great square, called Prato della Valle, is a very- wide
space, where the chief fair is held in Jime. The wooden
booths in the middle of it do not produce the most favom-able
appearance, but the inhabitants assm-e me that there will soon
be ü.ßcrn of stone here, Hke that at Verona. One has hopes
of this already, from the manner in which the Prato is sur-
rounded, and which affords a ven^' beautiful and imposing view.

A huge oval is sun'ounded with statues, all representing

PADUA. 287

celebrated men, who have taught or studied at the Univer-
sity. Any native or foreigner is allowed to erect a statue
of a certain size to any countryman or kinsman, as soon as the
merit of the person and his academical residence at Padua are
pi'oved.

A moat filled with water goes round the oval. On the four
bridges which lead up to it stand colossal figiu-es of Popes and
Doges; the other statues, which are smaller, have been set
up by corporations, private individuals, or foreigners. The
Eang of Sweden caused a figure of Gustavus Adolphus to be
erected, because it is said he once heard a lecture in Padua.
The Archduke Leopold re^•ived the memory of Petrarch and
Galileo. The statues ai-e in a good, modern stjde, a few of
them rather affected, some verj' natiu-al, and all in the
costume of their rank and dignity. The inscriptions deserve
eomtnendation. There is nothing in them absurd or paltry.

At any miiversity the thought woidd have been a happy
one -(and here it is particularly so), because it is very delight-
ful to see a whole Hne of departed worthies thus called back
again. It will perhaps form a veiy beautiful Prato, when the
wooden Fiera shall be removed, and one buut of stone, accord-
ing to the aforesaid plan.

In the consistory of a fraternity dedicated to S. Anthony,
there are some pietiures of an early date, which remind one of
the old German paintings, and also some by Titian, in which
may be remarked the great progress which no one has made
on the other side of the Alps. Immediately afterwards I saw
works by some of the most modern painters. These artists,
as they could not hope to succeed in the lofty and the serious,
have been very happy in hitting the humorous. The decol-
lation of John by Piazetta is, in tliis sense, a capital picture,
if one can once allow the master's manner. John is kneeling,
with his hands before him, and his right knee on a stone, looking
towards heaven. One of the soldiers, who is binding him, is
bending roimd on one side, and looking into his face, as if he
was wondering at his patient resignation. Higher up stands
another, who is to deal the fatal blow. He does not, however,
hold the sword, but makes a motion with his hands, like one
Vfho is practising the stroke beforehand. A third is drawing
the sword out of the scabbard. The thought is happy, if not
grand, and the composition is stiiking and produces the best
effect.

28S LETTERS FK05I ITALY.

In the churcli of the Eremitani I have seen pictures by
Mantegua, one of the older painters, at which I am astonished.
What a sharp, strict actuaUty is exhibited in these pictures !
It is from this actuahty, thoroughly true, not apparent, merely
and falsely effective, and appealing solely to the imagination,
but solid, pure, bright, elaborated, conscientious, delicate, and
circumscribed — an actuality which had about it something
severe, credulous, and laborious; it is from this, I say, that
the later painters proceeded (as I remarked in the pictm-es by
Titian), in order that by the liveliness of their own genius,
the energy of their nature illumined at the same time by the
mind of the predecessors, and exalted by their force, they
might rise higher and higher, and elevated above the earth,
produce forms that were heavenly indeed, but still true.
Thus was art developed after the barbarous period.

The hall of audience in the town-house, properly designated
by the augmentative " Salone," is such a huge inclosm-e
that one cannot conceive it, much less recall it to one's imme-
diate memory. It is three hundred feet long, one hiuidred feet
broad, and one hundred feet high, measured up to the roof,
which covers it quite in. So accustomed are these jjeople to
live in the open air, that the architects look out for a market-
place to over-arch. And there is no question that this huge
vaulted space produces quite a peculiar effect. It is an
inclosed infinity, which has more analogy to man's habits and
feelings than the starry heavens. The latter takes us out of
ourselves, the former insensibility brings us back to our-
selves.

For the same reason I also like to stay in the Church of
S. Justina. This church, which is eighty-five feet long, and high
and broad in proportion, is built in a grand and simple style.
This evening I seated myself in a comer, and indulged in
quiet contemplation. Then I felt myself truly alone, for no
one in the world, even if he had thought of me for the
moment, would have looked for me here.

Now everything ought to be packed up again, for to-mor-
row morning I set ofi* by water, upon the Brenta. It rained
to-day, but now it has cleared up, and I hope I shall be able
to see the lagunes and the Bride of the Sea by beautiful day-
light, and to greet my friends from her bosom.

VENICE.

Now it stood ■written on my page- in the Book of Fate, that
on the evening of the 28th of September, by 5 o'clock, German
time, I should see Venice for the first time, as I passed from
the Brenta into the lagunes, and that, soon afterwards, I
should actually enter and visit this strange island-city, this
heaven-like republic. So now. Heaven be praised, Venice is
no longer to me a bare and a hollow name, which has so
long tormented me, — me, the mental enemy of mere verbal
sounds.

As the first of the gondoliers came up to the ship (they
come in order to convey more quickly to Venice those passen-
gers who are in a hurry), I recollected an old plaything, of
which, perhaps, I had not thought for twenty years. My
father had a beautiful model of a gondola which he had
brought with him \J'rom Italif\ ; he set a great value upon it,
and it was considered a great treat, when I was allowed to
play with it. The first beaks of tinned iron-plate, the black
gondola-gratings, all greeted me like old acquaintances, and
I experienced again dear emotions of my childiood which had
been long unknown.

I am well lodged at the sign of the Queen of England., not
far from the square of S. Mark, which is, indeed, the chief
advantage of the spot. My windows look upon a narrow
canal between lofty houses, a bridge of one arch is immedi-
ately below me, and directly opposite is a narrow, bustling
alley. Thus am I lodged, and here I shall remain until I
haA'e made up my packet for Germany, and until I am satiated
with the sight of the city. I can now really enjoy the soH-
tude for which I have longed so ardently, for nowhere does a
man feel himself more solitary than in a crowd, where he
must push his way unknown to every one. Perhaps in Venice
there is only one person who knows me, and he wiU not come
in contact with me all at once.

Venice, September 28, 1786.
A few words on my joitrney hither from Padua. The pas-
sage on the Brenta, in the public vessel, and in good company,
is highly agreeable. The banks are ornamented with gardens
and viUas, little hamlets come down to the water's edge, and
Vol. II. u

290 XETTEKS FK03I ITALY. >

the animated highroad may be seeu here and there. As the
descent of the river is by means of locks, there is often a Uttie
pause, which may be employed in looking abovit the country,
and in tasting the fruits, which are otfered in great abundance.
You then enter your vessel again, and move on tlu'ough a
world, which is itself in motion, and which is full of life and
fertility.

To so many changing forms and images a phenomenon Avas
added, which, although derived from Germany, -was quite in
its place here — I mean two pilgrims, the first whom I have
seen closely. They have a right to travel (jratis in this public
conveyance ; but because the rest of the passengers dislike
coming into contact with them, they do not sit in the covered
part, but in the after-part beside the steersman. They were
stai'ed at as a phenomenon even at the present day, and as in
former times many vagabonds had made use of this cloak,
they were but lightly esteemed. When I learned that they
were Germans, and coiild speak no language but their own, I
joined them, and found that they came from the Paderborn
territory. Both of them were men of more than fifty years
of age, and of a dark, but good-humom-ed physiognomy. They
had first visited the sepulchre of the " Three Kings" at
Cologne, had then travelled through Germany, and were now
together on their Avay back to Rome and Upper Italy, whence
one intended to set out for AVestphalia, and the other to pay
a visit of adoration to St. James of Compostella.

Their dress was the well-known costume of pilgrims, but
they looked much better v»dth this tucked up robe, than the
pilgrims in long tafieta garments, we are accustomed to exhibit
at our masquerades. The long cape, the round hat, the staff
and cockle (the latter used as the most innocent drinking-
vessel) — all had its signification, and its immediate use, while
a tin-case held their passports. Most remarkable of all were
their small, red morocco pocket-books, in which they kept all
the little implements that might be wanted for any simple
necessity. They took them out on finding that something
wanted mending in their garments.

The steersman, highly pleased to find an interpreter, made
me ask them several questions, and thus I learned a great
deal about their views, and especially about their expedition.
They made bitter complaints against their brethren in the

THE PASSAGE TO VENICE. 291

faith, and even against the clergy-, both secular and monastic.
Piety, they said, must be a very scarce commodity, since no
one woidd believe in theirs, but they were treated as vagrants
in almost every Catholic country, although they produced the
route which had been clerically prescribed, and the passports
given by the bishop. On the other hand, they described, with
a great deal of emotion, how well they had been received by
protestants, and made special mention of a coimtrj' clergj-man
in Suabia, and still more of his wife, who had prevailed on her
somewhat unwilling husband to give them an abimdant repast,
of which they stood in gi'eat need. On taking leave, the good
couple had given them a " convention's dollar,"* which they
found verj^ serviceable, as soon as they entered the Catholic
territory. Upon this, one of them said, with all the elevation
of which he was capable : " We include this lady eveiy day
in om- prayers, and implore God that he will open her eyes,
as he has opened her heart towards us, and take her, although
late, into the bosom of the Catholic Chm-ch. And thus we
hope that we shall meet her in Paradise hereafter."

As I sat upon the little gang-way which led to the deck,
I explained as much as was necessaiy and useful to the steers-
man, and to some other persons who had crowded from the
cabin into this narrow space. The pilgrims received some
paltry donations, for the Italian is not fond of giving. Upon
this they drew out some little consecrated tickets, on which
might be seen the representation of the three sainted kings,
with some prayers addressed to them. The worthy men
entreated me to distribute these tickets among the little party,
and explain how invaluable they were. In this I succeeded
perfectly, for when the two men appeared to be gi-eatly em-
barrassed as to how they should find the convent devoted to
pilgrims in so large a place as Venice, the steersman was
touched, and promised that, when they landed, he would give
a boy a trifle to lead them to that distant spot. He added to
me in confidence, that they would find but little welcome.
" The institution," he said, " was founded to admit I don't
know how many pilgrims, but now it has become greatlv con-
tracted, and the revenues are otherwise employed."

* A "convention's dollar" is a dollar coined in consequence of an
agreement made between several of the German states, in the year 1750,
when the Viennese standard was adopted. — Trans.

V 2

292 LETTERS EKOM ITALY.

During this conversation we had gone cIowti the beautiful
Brenta, leaving behind us many a noble garden, and many a
noble palace, and casting a rapid glance at the populous and
thriving hamlets, Avhich lay along the banks. Several gon-
dolas wound about the ship as soon as we had entered the
lagunes. A Lombard, well acquainted with Venice, asked
me to accompany him, that we might enter all the quicker,
and escape the nuisance of the custom-house. Those who
endeavoured to hold ns back, he contrived to put off with a
little driuk-money, and so, in a cheerful sunset, we floated to
the place of our destination.

Sept. 29 {Michaelmas-Day). Evening.

So much has already been told and printed about Venice,
that I shall not be circumstantial in my description, but shall
only say how it struck me. Now, in this instance again, that
which makes the chief impression upon me, is the people, — a
great mass, who live an involuntary existence determined by
the changing circumstances of the moment.

It was for no idle fancy that this race fled to these islands;
it was no mere whim which impelled those who followed to
combine with them ; necessity taught them to look for security
in a highly disadvantageous situation, that afterwards became
most advantageous, enduing them with talent, when the whole
northern world was immersed in gloom. Their increase and
their wealth were a necessary consequence. New dwellings
arose close against dwellings, rocks took the place of sand and
marsh, houses sought the sky, being forced like trees inclosed
in a narrow compass, to seek in height what was denied them
in breadth. Being niggards of every inch of ground, as having
been from the very first compressed into a narrow compass,
■they allowed no more room for the streets than was just neces-
sary to separate a row of houses from the one opposite, and to
afford the citiz; ns a narrow passage. Moreover, water sup-
plied the ])lace of street, square, and promenade. The Vene-
tian was forced to become a new creature ; and thus Venice
can only be compared with itself. The large canal, winding
like a serpent, yields to no street in the world, and nothing can
be put by the side of the space in front of St. Mark's square — I
mean thai great mirror of water, which is encompassed by Venice

VENICE. 293

Proper, in the form of a crescent. Across the watery surface
you see to the left the island of St. Georgio Maggiore, to the
right a little further off the Guidecca and its canal, and still
more distant the Bogana (Custom-house) and the entrance
into the Canal Grande, where right before us two immense
marble temples are glittering in the sunshine. All the views
and prospects have been so often engraved, that my friends
will have no difficulty in forming a clear idea of them.

After dinner I hastened to fix my first impression of the
whole, and without a guide, and merely observing the car-
dinal points, threw myself into the labyrinth of the city, which
though everywhere intersected by larger or smaller canals,
is again connected by bridges. The narrow and crowded
appearance of the whole cannot be conceived by one who has
not seen it. In most cases one can quite or nearly measure
the breadth of the street, by stretching out one's arms, and
in the narrowest, a person would scrape his elbows if he
walked with his arms a-kimbo. Some streets, indeed, are
wider, and here and there is a little square, but comparatively
all may be called narrow.

I easily found the grand canal, and the pi;incipal bridge —
the Rialto, which consists of a single arch of white marble.
Looking down from this, one has a fine prospect, — the canal
full of ships, Avhich bring every necessary from the con-
tinent, and put in chiefly at this place to unload, while
between them is a swarm of gondolas. To-day, especially,
being Michaelmas, the view was wonderfully animated; but
to give some notion of it, I must go back a little.

The two principal parts of Venice, which are di\-ided by
the grand canal, are connected by no other bridge than the
Rialto, but several means of commimication are provided,
and the river is crossed in open boats at certain fixed points.
To-day a very pretty efiect was produced, by the number of
well-dressed ladies, who, their features concealed beneath
large black veils, were being ferried over in large parties at a.
time, in order to go to the chvirch of the Archangel, whose
festival was being solemnised. I left the bridge and went to
one of the points of landing, to see the parties as they left the
boats. I discovered some very fine forms and faces among
them.

After I had become tired of this amusement. I seated myself

294 XETTERS FROM ITALY.

in a gondola, and, quitting the narrow streets with the inten-
tion of witnessing a spectacle of an opposite description, went
along the northern part of the grand canal, into the lagnnes,
and then entered the canal della Guidecca, going as far as the
square of St. Mark. Now was I also one of the birds of the
Adriatic sea, as every Venetian feels himself to be, whilst re-
clining in his gondola. I then thought with due honour of my
good father, who knew of nothing better than to talk about
the things I now witnessed. And will it not be so with
me likewise? All that svirrounds me is dignified — ^a gi-and
venerable work of combined human energies, a noble
monument, not of a ruler, but of a people. And if their
lagunes are gradually filling uj), if unwholesome vapours
are floating over the marsh, if their trade is declining and
their power has sunk, still the great place and the essen-
tial character will not for a moment, be less venerable to the
observer. Venice succumbs to time, like everything that has
a phenomenal existence.

Sept. 30.

Towards evening I again rambled, without a guide, into the
remotest quarters of the city. The bridges here are all pro-
vided with stairs, that gondolas, and even larger vessels, may
pass conveniently under the arches. I sought to find my
way in and out of this labyrinth, without asking anybody,
and, on this occasion also, only guiding myself by the points
of the compass. One disentangles one's self at last, but it is a
wonderful complication, and my manner of obtaining a sen-
sible impression of it, is the best. I have now been to the
remotest points of the city, and observed the conduct, mode of
life, manners, and character of the inhabitants; and in every
quarter they are different. Gracious Heaven ! — What a poor
good sort of animal man is, after all !

Most of the smaller houses stand immediately on the canals,
but there are here and there quays of stone, beautifully
paved, along which one may take a pleasant walk between the
water, and the churches, and palaces. Particularly cheerful
and agreeable is the long stone quay on the northern side, from
which the islands are visible, especially Murano, which is a

TENICE. 29S

Venice on a small scale. The intervening lagunes are all
aHve with little arondolas.

Sept. 30. Eveninc/.
To-day I have enlarged my notions of Venice by procuring
a plan of it. AVhen I had studied it for some time, I ascended
the tower of St. Mark, Avhere an unique spectacle is presented
to the eye. It was noon, and the smi was so bright that I
could see places neai" and distant -o-ithout a glass. The tide
covered the lagunes, and when I tiirncd my eyes towards
what is called the Lido (this is a nan-ow strip of earth, which
bounds the lagunes), I saw the sea for the first time with
some saus upon it. In the lagunes themselves some gallies
and frigates are hing, destined to joiu the Chevalier Emo,
who is making war on the Algeiines, but detained by un-
favorable winds. The mountains of Padua and Vicenza, and
the mountain- chain of Tyrol, beautifully bound the pictui-e
between the north and west.

October 1.

I went out and surveyed the city from many points of \iew,
and as it was Sunday, I was struck by the great want of
cleanliness in the streets, which forced me to make some
reflections. There seems to be a sort of policy in this mat-
ter, for the people scrape the sweepings into the comers, and
I see lai'ge ships going backwards and forwards, Avliich at
several points He to, and take off the accumulation. They
belong to the people of the surrounding islands, who are in
want of manure. But, however, there is neither consistency
nor strictness in this method, and the want of cleanliness in
the city is the more unpardonable, as in it, as much provi-
sion has been made for cleaning it, as in any Dutch to\A'u.

All the streets are paved — even those in the remotest quarters,
with bricks at least, which are laid down lengthwise, \vith the
edges sHghtly canting : the middle of the street where neces-
sary is raised a little, while channels are formed on each side
to receive the water, and convey it into covered drains.
There are other architectural an-angements in the original
well-cousidercd plan, which prove the intention of the ex-
cellent architects to make Venice the most cleanly, as well as

296 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

the most singular of cities. As I walked along I could not
refrain fi-om sketching a body of regulations on the subject,
anticipating in thought some superintendent of police, who
might act in earnest. Thus one always feels an inclination
to sweep one's neighbour's door.

Oct. 2, 1/86.

IJofore all things I hastened to the Carito.. I had found ia
Palladio's works that he had planned a monastic building
here, in which he intended to represent a private residence
of the rich and hospitable ancients. The plan, which was
excellently drawn, both as a whole and in detail, gave me
infinite delight, and I hoped to find a marvel. Alas! scarcely
a tenth part of the edifice is finished. However, even this
part is worthy of that heavenly genius. There is a complete-
ness in the plan, and an accuracy in the execution, which I had
never before witnessed. One ought to pass whole years in
the contemplation of such a work. It seems to me that I
have seen nothing grander, nothing more perfect, and I fancy
that I am not mistaken. Only imagine the admirable artist,
born with an inner feeling for the grand and the pleasing,
now, for the first time, forming himself by the ancients, with
incredible labour, that he may be the means of reviving them.
He finds an opportunity to carry out a favorite thought iu
building a convent, which is destined as a dwelling for so many
monks, and a shelter for so many strangers, in the form of au
antique private residence.

The church was already standing and led to an atrium of
Corinthian columns. Here one feels delighted, and forgets
all priestcraft. At one end, the sacristy, at another, a chajiter-
room is found, while there is the finest winding staii'-case in
the world, with a wide well, and the stone-steps built into
the wall, and so laid, that one supports another. One is never
trred of going up and do\vn this stair -case, and we may judge
of its success, from the fact that Palladio himself declares
that he has succeeded. The fore-court leads to the large
inner-court. Unfortunately, nothing is finished of the build-
ing which was to surround this, except the left side. Here
there are three rows of columns, one over the other ; on the
ground-floor are the halls, on the first story is an archway in

TEXICE. 297

front of the cells, and the upper story consists of a plain wail
with -windows. However, this description should be illus-
trated by a reference to the sketches. I will just add a word
about the execution.

Only the capitals and bases of the columns, and the
key-stones of the arches, are of hcwii stone ; all the rest is
— ^I will not say of brick, but — of burned clay. This de-
scription of tile I never saw before. The frieze and cornice
are of the same material, as weU as the parts of the arch.
All is but half burnt, and lastly the building is put together
with a very little lime. As it stands it looks as if it had
been produced at one cast. If the whole had been finished,
and it had been properly rubbed up and coloured, it woidd
have been a charming sight.

However, as so often happens with buildings of a modern
time, the plan was too large. The artist had pre-supposed not
only that the existing convent would be pulled down, but alsa
that the adjoining houses would be bought, and here money
and inclination probably began to fail. Kind Destiny, thou
who hast formed and perpetuated so much stupidity, why
didst thou not allow this work to be completed!

Oct. 3.

The church II Redentore is a large and beautiful work by Pal-
ladio, with a facade even more worthy of praise than that of
S. Giorgio. These works, which have often been engraved,
must be placed before you, to elucidate what is said. I will
only add a few words.

PaUadio was thoroughly imbued with the antique mode of
existence, and felt the narrow, petty spirit of his own age,
like a great man who will not give way to it. but strives to
mould all that it leaves him, as far as possible, into accord-
ance with his own ideas. From a slight perusal of his book
I conclude that he was displeased with the continued practice
of building Christian churches after the form of the ancient
BasiHca, and, therefore, sought to make his own sacred edifices
approximate to the form of the antique temple. Hence arose
certain discrepancies, which, as it seemed to me, are happily
avoided in // Redentm-e. but are rather ob%-ious in the S.
Giorgio. Volckmann says something about it, but does not
hit the nail on the head.

298 LETTEKS FKOM ITALY.

The interior of 77 Hedentore is likewise admirable. Every-
thiag, including even the designs of the altars, is by Palladio.
Unfortunately, the niches, Avhich should have been filled with
statues, are glaring Avith wooden figures, flat, carved, and
painted.

October 3.

In honour of S. Francis, S. Peter's capuchins have splendidly
adorned a side altar. There was nothing to be seen of stone
but the Corinthian capitals ; all the rest seemed to be covered
with tasteful but splendid embroidery, in the arabesque style,
and the efifect was as pretty as could be desired. I particu-
larly admh-ed the broad tendrils and foliage, embroidered in
gold. Going neai'er, I discovered an ingenious deception.
AH that I had taken for gold was, in fact, straw pressed flat,
and glued upon paper, according to some beautiful outlines,
■while the ground was painted with lively coloiurs. This is
done ■\Aath such variety and tact, that the design, which was
probably worked in the convent itself, with a material that
was worth nothing, must have cost several thousand dollars,
if the material had been genuine. It might on occasion be
advantageously imitated

On one of the quays, and in front of the water I have often
remarked a little fellow telling stories in the Venetian dialect,
to a greater or less concourse of auditors. Unfortunately I
cannot understand a word, but I observe that no one laughs,
though the audience, who are composed of the lowest class,
occasionally smile. There is nothing striking or ridicidous
in the man's appearance, but, on the contrary, something very
sedate, with such admirable variety and precision in his ges-
tures, that they evince art and reflection.

October 3.
With my plan in my hand I endeavored to find my way
thi-ough the strangest labjTinth to the chm-ch of the Mendi-
canti. Here is the conservatorium, which stands in the high-
est repute at the present day. The ladies performed an.
oratorio behind the grating, the cluu-ch was filled with hear-
ers, the music was very beautiful, and the voices were magni-

VENICE. 299

ficent. An alto sung the part of King Saul, the chief per-
sonage in the poem. Of such a voice I had no notion what-
ever ; some passages of the music were excessively beautiful,
and the words, Avhich Avere Latin, most laughably Italianized
in some places, were perfectly adapted for singing. Music
here has a wide field.

The performance would have been a source of great enjoy-
ment, if the acciu'sed Maestro di Capella had not beaten time
with a roll of music against the grating, as conspicuously as if
he had to do with school-boys, whom he was insti'ucting. As
the girls had repeated the piece often enough, his noise was
quite unnecessary, and destroyed all impression, as much as
he would, who, in order to make a beautiful statue intelligible
to us, should stick scarlet patches on the joints. The foreign
sound destroys all harmony. Now this man is a musician,
and yet he seems not to be sensible of this ; or, more properly
speaking, he chooses to let his presence be kno^ii by an
impropriety, when it would have been much better to allow
his value to be perceived by the perfection of the execution.
I know that this is the fault of the French, but I did not give
the Italians credit for it, and yet the public seems accustomed
to it. This is not the first time that that which spoils enjoy-
ment, has been supposed to belong directly to it.

October 3.

Yesterday evening I went to the Opera at the S. Moses (for
the theatres take their name from the church to which they
lie nearest) ; nothing very deHghtfid ! In the plan, the music,
and the singers, that energy was Avanting, which alone can
elcA'ate opera to the highest point. One coidd not say of any
part that it was bad, but the tAvo female actresses alone took
pains, not so much to act Avell, but to set themselves ofi' and
to please. That is something, after all. These two actresses
have beautiful figures, and good A'oiees, and are nice, liA'ely,
compact, little bodies. Among the men, on the other hand,
there is no trace of national power, or CA'en of pleasure, in
working on the imaginations of their audience. Neither is
there among them any A-oice of decided brilliancy.

The baUet, Avhich Avas AATctchedly concciA'ed, was con-
demned as a whole, but some excellent dancers and danseuses.

300 TETTERS FROM ITALY.

the latter of whom considered it their duty to make the spec-
tators acquainted with all their personal charms, were heartily
applauded.

October 5.

To-day, however, I saw another comedy, which gave me
more pleasure. In the ducal palace I heard the public discus-
sion of a law case. It was important, and, happily for me,
was brought forward in the holidays. One of the advocates
had all the qualifications for an exaggerated buffo. His figure
was short and fat, but supple; in profile his features Mere
monstrously prominent. He had a stentorian voice, and a
vehemence as if eveiything that he said came in earnest from
the very bottom of his heart. I call this a comedy, because,
probably, everything had been already prepared when the
public exhibition took place. The judges knew what they
had to say, and the parties what they had to expect. How-
ever, this plan pleases me infinitely more than our hobbling
law afiairs. I will endeavor to give some notion of the par-
ticulars, and of the neat, natural, and unostentatious manner
in which everj'thing takes place.

In a spacious hall of the palace the judges were sitting on.
one side, in a half circle. Opposite to them, in a tribune which
could hold several persons, were the advocates for both par-
ties ; and upon a bench immediately in front of them, the
plantiff, and defendant in person. The advocate for the
plaintifi" had descended from the tribune, since there was
to be no controversy at this day's sitting. All the documents,
on both sides, were to be read, although they were ah-eady
printed.

A lean clerk, in a black scanty gown, and "with a thick
bundle in his hand, prepared to perform the oflSce of a
reader. The hall was completely crammed with persons who
came to see and to hear. The point of law itself, and the
persons whom it concerned, must have appeared highly im-
portant to the Venetians.

Trust-estates are so decidedly secured in Venice, that a
property once stamped Avith this character, preserves it for
ever, though it may have been divested ages ago by appro-
priations or other circumstances, and though it may have-

VENICE. 301

passed through ever so many hands. When the matter
comes into dispute the descendants of the first family recover
their right, and the property must be delivered up.

On this occasion the discussion was highly important, for
the action was brought against the doge himself, or rather
against his wife, who veiled by her zendal, or little hood,
sat only at a little distance from the plaintiff. She was a
lady of a certain age, of noble statm-e, and with well-formed
features, in which there was something of an eai'nest, not to
say fretful character. The Venetians make it a great boast
that the princess in her own palace, is obHged to appear
before them and the tribunal.

When the clerk began to read, I for the first time clearly
discerned the business of a little man who sat on a low
stool behind a small table opposite the judges, and near the
advocates. More especially I learned the use of an hour-glass,
which was placed before him. As long as the clerk reads,
time is not heeded, but the advocate is only allowed a cer-
tain time, if he speaks in the course of the reading. The
clerk reads, and the hom*-glass lies in a horizontal position,
with the little man's hand upon it. As soon as the advocate
opens his mouth, the glass is raised, and sinks again, as soon
as he is silent. It is the great duty of the advocate to
make remarks on what is read, to introduce cursoiy observa-
tions in order to excite and challenge attention. This puts
the little Saturn in a state of the greatest perplexity. He
is obliged every moment to change the horizontal and vertical
position of the glass, and finds himself in the situation of the
evil spirits in the puppet-show, who by the quickly varying
"Berliche, Berloche" of the mischievous Hansivurst'^', are
puzzled whether they are to come or to go.

^\Tioever has heard documents read over in a law-court,
can imagine the reading on this occasion, — quick and mono-
tonous, but plain and articulate enough. The ingenious advo-
cate contrives to interrupt the tedium by jests, and the public

* An allusion to the comic scene, in the puppet-play of Faust, from
which Goethe took the subject of his poem. One of the two magic words
(Berliche, Berloche) summons the devils, the other drives them away,
and the Hanswurst (or buffoon), in a mock-incantation scene, perplexes
the fiends, by uttering one word after the other, as rapidly as possible.

Trans.

302 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

stows its delight in liis jokes by immoderate laughter. I must
mention one, the most striking of those I could imderstand.
The reader was just reciting the document, by which, one, who
was considered to have been iMegaUy possessed of it, had dis-
posed of the property in question. The advocate bade him
read more slowly, and when he plainly uttered the words: "I
give and bequeath,'' the orator Üew violently at the clerk and
cried: "What wiU you give? "SATiat will you bequeath?
you poor stai*ved-out devil, nothing in the world belongs to
3-0U? "' "However," — ^he contiaued, as he seemed to collect
himself — "the ülusti-ious o-«"ner was in the same predica-
ment. He wished to give, he Avished to bequeath that which
belonged to him no more than to you." A burst of inextin-
gidshable laughter followed this sally, but the houi'-glass at
once resumed its horizontal position. The reader went
mimibUng on, and made a saucy face at the advocate ; but
all these jokes are prepared beforehand.

Oct. 4.
I was yesterday at the play, in the theati'e of S. Luke,
and was highly pleased. I saw a piece acted extempore ia
masks, -with a gi-eat deal of nature, energy, and vigour. The
actors are not, indeed, aU equal; the pantaloon is excellent,
and one of the acti-esses, who is stout and weU-built, speaks
admirably, and deports herself cleverly, though she is no
extraordinaiy actress. The subject of the piece is extra-
vagant, and resembled that which is treated by us imder the
name of Der Verschlag (the partition). "With inexhaustible
variety it amused us for more than thi*ee hours. But even
here the peojile is the base upon which everything rests, the
spectators are themselves actors, and the multitude is melted
into one whole with the stage. AU day long the buyer and
the seller, the beggar, the sailor, the female gossip, the advo-
cate and his opponent, are living and acting in the square
and on the bench, in the gondolas and in the palaces, and make
it their business to talk and to asseverate, to cry and to offer
for sale, to sing and to play, to curse and to brawl. In the
evening they go into the theati'e, and see and hear the life of
the day artificially put together, prettily set off, interwoven
■s\ith a storv, removed from reality' bv the masks, and brought

VE?iriCE. 303

near to it by manners. In all this they take a childish delight
and again shout and clap, and make a noise. From day to
night, — nay, from midnight to midnight, it is always the
same.

I have not often seen more natural acting than that by these
masks. It is such acting as can only be sustained by a
remarkably happy talent and long practice.

AVhile I am writing this, they are making a tremendous
noise on the canal under my window, though it is past mid-
night. "Whether for good or for evil, they are always doing
somethino-.

October 4.

I have now heard public orators; viz., three fellows in the
square and on the stone-bench, each telling tales after his
fashion, two advocates, two preachers, and the actors, among
whom I must especially commend the pantaloon. AU these
have something in common, both because they belong to one
and the same nation, which, as it always lives in pubhc,
always adopts an impassioned manner of speaking, and
because they imitate each other. There is besides a marked
language of gesticiilations, with wliich they accompany the
expressions of their intentions, views, and feelings.

Tliis day was the festival of S. Francis, and I was in his
church Alle Yigne. The loud voice of the capuchin was
accompanied by the cries of the salesmen in front of the
chm-ch, as bj^ an antiphone. I stood at the chm'ch-door
between the two, and the effect was singular enough.

Oct 5.

This morning I was in the arsenal, which I found interest-
ing enough, though I know nothing of maritime affairs, and
visited the lower school there. It has an appearance like
that of an old family, which still bustles about, although its
best time of blossom and fruit has passed. By paying atten-
tion to the handicraftsmen, I have seen much that is remark-
able, and have been on board an eighty-foin- gun ship, the
huU of which is just completed.

Six months ago a thing of the sort was burned do^vn to the
water's edge, off the Riva dei Schiavoni. The powder-room was

304 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

not very full, and when it blew up. it did no great damage.
The windows of the neigliboimug houses were destroyed.

I have seen worked the finest oak ii-oui Istria. and have
made my observations in return upon this valuable tree.
That knowledge of the natm-al things used by man as
materials, and employed for his wants, which I have acqidred
with so much difficulty, has been iucalcidably serviceable in
explaining to me the proceedings of artists and artisans. The
knowledge of mountains and of the stone taken out of them
has been to me a great advance in art.

Oct. 5.

To give a notion of the Bucentaur in one word, I should
say that it is a state-galley. The older one, of which we still
have drawings, justified this appellation still more than the
present one, which, by its splendour makes us forget its
original.

I am always returning to my old opinions. When a genuine
subject is given to an artist, his productions will be something
genuine also. Here the artist was commissioned to form a
galley, worthy to carry the heads of the llepubUc, on the
highest festivals in honom- of its ancient ride on the sea; and
the problem has been admirably solved. Tlie vessel is all
ornament; we ought to say, it is overladen with ornament; it
is altogether one piece of gilt carving, for uo other use, but
that of a pageant to exhibit to the pt ople its leaders in right
noble style. We know well enough that a people, who
likes to deck out its boats, is no less pleased to see their
rulers bravely adorned. This state-galley is a good index to
show what the Venetians were, and what they considered
themselves.

Oct. 5. Night.
I came home laughing from a tragedy, and must at once
make the jest secure upon paper. The piece was not bad, the
author had brought together all the tragic matadors, and the
actors played well. Most of the situations were well knoAvn,
but some were new and highly felicitous. There are two
fathers, who hate each other, sons and daughters of these

VENICE. 305

severed families, who respectively are passionately in love
viith. each other, and one couple is even privately married.
Wild and cruel work goes on. and at last nothing remains
to render the young people happy, but to make the two fathers
kill each other, upon which the curtain falls amid the liveliest
applause. Now the applause becomes more vehement, now
'• fuora"' was called out, and this lasted until the two principal
couples vouchsafed to crawl forward from behind the cmtain,
make their bow, and retire at the opposite side.

The public was not yet satisfied, but went on clapping
and crying: "i mortil" tül the two dead men also come
forward and made their bow, when some voices cried •' bravi i
morti!"' The applause detained them for a long time, till at
last they were allowed to depart. The effect is infinitely
more droll to the eye-and-ear- witness, Avho, like me. has ring-
ing in his ears the "bravo! bravi I"' which the Italians have
incessantly in their mouths, and then suddenly hears the dead
also called forward with this word of honoiu:.

We of the north can say " good night"' at any hour, when
we take leave after dark, but the Italian says : " Felicissima
notte '' only once, and that is when the candles are brought
into a room. Day and night are thus divided, and something
quite difierent is meant. So impossible is it to translate the
idiom.s of any language! From the highest to the lowest
word all has reference to the peculiarities of the natives, in
character, opinions, or circumstances.

Oct. 6.

The tragedy yesterday taught me a great deal. In the first
place, I have heard how the Italians treat and declaim theii"
Eleven-syllable iambics, and in the next place, I have imder-
stoud the tact of Gozzi in combining masks with his tragic
personages. This is the proper sort of play for this people,
which likes to be moved in a rough fashion. It has no ten-
der, heart-felt sympathy for the unfortunate personage, but is
only pleased when the hero speaks well. The Italians attach
a great deal of importance to the speaking, and then they
like to laugh, or to hear something silly.

Their interest in the drama is Hke that in a real event.
WTieu the tvrant gave his son a sword and required him to
Vol. li. X

306 LETTERS EKOM ITALY.

kill his own wife, who was standing opposite, the people
began loudly to express theii- disapprobation of this demand,
and there was a great risk that the piece would have been
inteiTupted. They insisted that the old man should take his
sword back.in which case all the subsequent situations in the
di'ama would have been completely spoued. At last, the dis-
tressed son plucked up courage, advanced to the proscenium,
and humbly entreated that the audience would have patience for
a moment, assm-ing them that all would tm-n out to their
entire satisfaction. But even judging from an artistical point
of view, this situation was, imder the circumstances, silly and
imnatural, and I commended the people for their feeling.

I can now better understand the long speeches and the
frequent dissertations, pro and con, in the Greek tragedy.
The Athenians liked still more to hear speaking, and were still
better judges of it, than the Italians. They learned something
from the courts of law, where they spent the whole day.

Oct. 6.

In those works of Palladio, which are completed, I have
found much to blame, together with much that is highly
valuable. While I was thmking it over in my mind how far
I was right or ^vl•ong in setting my judgment in opposition to
that of so extraordinary a man, I felt as if he stood by and
said, " I did so and so against my will, but, nevertheless, I did
it, because in this manner alone was it possible for me, under
the given cii-cumstances, to approximate to my highest idea."

The more I think the matter over, it seems to me, that Pal-
ladio. Avhile contemplating the height and width of an already
existing church, or of an old house to which he was to attach
facades, only considered: "How vriW you give the greatest
form to these dimensions? Some part of the detail must
from the necessity of the case, be put out of its place or
spoiled, and something unseemly is sure to arise here and
there. Be that as it may, the whole will have a grand style,
and vou will be pleased with your work."

And thus he carried out the great image which he had
within his soul, just to the point where it was not quite suit-
able, and where he was obliged in the detail to mutilate or to
overcrowd it.

TEXICE. 307

On the other hand, the ^ying of the Carita cannot be too
highly prized, for here the artist's hands were free, and he
coiild follow the bent of his o\\n mind without constraint. If
the convent were finished there would, perhaps, be no work
of architecture more perfect throughout the present world.

How he thought and how he worked becomes more and
more clear to me, the more I read his works, and reflect how he
treated the ancients: for he says few words, but they are
all important. The fourth book, which illustrates the antique
temples, is a good introduction to a judicious examination of
ancient remains.

Oct. 6.

Yesterday evening I saw the Electra of Crebülon — that is
to say, a translation — at the theatre S. Crisostomo. I cannot
say, how absurd the piece appeared to me, and how terribly
it tired me out.

The actors are generally good, and know how to put off the
pubHc with single passages.

Orestes alone has three narratives, poetically set off, in one
scene. Electi'a, a pretty little woman of the middle size and
stature, with almost French vivacity, and with a good deport-
ment, delivered the verses beautifully, only she acted the part
madly from beginning to end, which, alas! it requires. How-
ever, I have again learned something. The Italian Iambic,
which is invariably of eleven syllables, is very inconvenient for
declamation, because the last syllable is always short, and
causes an elevation of the voice against the will of the
declaimcr.

Oct. 6.
This morning I was present at high mass, which annually
on this day the Doge must attend, in the chm-ch of St. Justina,
to commemorate an old victor\- over the Turks. "SMieu the
gilded barks, which cany the piinces and a portion of the
nobiHty approach the little square, when the boatmen, in
their rare Hverics, are plying their red-painted oars, when on
the shore the clergy and the religious fraternities are standing,
pushing, mo\-ing about, and waiting with their lighted torches
fixed upon poles and portable silver chandeliers; then, when the
X 2

308 rETTEES FROM ITALY.

gangways covered with carpet are placed from the vessels to the
shore, aud first the full violet di-esses of the Savii. next the
ample red robes of the Senators are unfolded upon the pave-
ment, and lastly when the old Doge adorned with his golden
Phrygian cap, in his long golden talar and his ermine
cloak, steps out of the vessel — when all this, I say, takes place
in a little square before the portal of a church, one feels as if
one were looking at an old worked tapestry, exceedingly well
designed and coloui-ed. To me, northern fugitive as I am, this
ceremony gave a great deal of pleasure. With us, who parade
nothing but short coats in our processions of pomp, and who
conceive nothing greater than one performed with shoiddered
arms, such an atfair might be out of place. But these trains,
these peaceful celebrations are all in keeping here.

The Doge is a well-gro\%'n and well-shaped man, who,
perhaps, suffers from ill health, but, nevertheless, for dignity's
sake, bears himself upright under his hea\y robe. In other
respects he looks like the grandpapa of the Avhole race, and
is kind and affable. His dress is very becoming, the little
cap, wliich he wears imder the large one, does not offend the
eye. resting as it does upon the whitest and finest hair in the
world.

About fifty nobili, with long dark-red trains, were witlt
him. For the most part they were handsome men, and there
was not a single uncouth figm-e among them. Several of them
were tall with large heads, so that the white cm-ly wigs were
very becoming to them. Their features are prominent ; the
flesh of their faces is soft and white, without looking flabby
and disagreeable. On the contrary, there is an appearance of
talent without exertion, repose, self-confidence, easiness of
existence, and a certain joyousness pervades the whole.

When all had taken their places in the church, and mass
began, the fraternities entered by the chief door, and went
out at the side door to the right, after they had received holy
water in couples, and made their obeisance to the high altar,
to the Doge, and the nobuity.

Oct. 6.
This evening I bespoke the celebrated song of the mariners,
who chaunt Tasso and -\riosto to melodies of their own. Tliis

TEXICE. 309

must actually be ordered, as it is not to be heard as a thing, of
course, but rather belongs to the half forgotten traditions of
former times. I entered a gondola by moon-hght. with one
sinc/er before and the other behind me. They shic/ their sonff,
taking up the yerses alternately. The melody, which we
know through Rousseau, is of a middle kind, between choral
and recitative, maintaining throughout the same cadence, with
out any fixed time. The modulation is also imiform, only
varpng with a sort of declamation both tone and measure,
according to the subject of the yerse. But the spirit — the life
of it. is as follows: —

Without inquiring into the construction of the melody,
suffice it to say that it is admirably suited to that easy class
of people, who, always humming something or other to them-
selves, adapt such tunes to any little poem they know by
heart.

Sitting on the shore of an island, on the bank of a canal, or
on the side of a boat, a gondolier will sing away with a loud
penetrating voice — the multitude admire force above every-
thing— anxious only to be heard as far as possible. Over the
silent mirror it travels far. Another in the distance, who is
acquainted with the melody and knows the words, takes it up
and answers -svith the next verse, and then the first replies,
so that the one is as it were the echo of the other. The song
continues through whole nights and is kept up without iatigue.
The further the singers are from each other, the more touch-
ing soiuids the strain. The best place for the listener is
halfway between the two.

In order to let me hear it, they landed on the bank of the
Guidecca, and took up difierent positions by the canal. I
■walked backwards and forwards between them, so as to leave
the one whose turn it was to sing, and to join the one who
had just left off. Then it was that the eflPect of the strain
first opened upon me. As a voice from the distance it
soimds in the highest degree strange — as a lament without
sadness: it has an incredible effect and is moving even to
tears. I ascribed this to my own state of mind, but my old
boatsman said: "e singulare, como quel canto intenerisce, e
molto piu quando e plu ben cantato." He wished that I
could hear the women of the Lido, especially those of Mala-
mocco, and Pelestrina. These also, he told me, chaunted Tasso

310 LETTEKS FROM ITALY.

and Ariosto to the same or similar melodies. He ■went on:
'^inthe evening:, wliile their husbands are on the sea fishing,
thev are accustomed to sit on the beach, and with shi'ill-pene-
trating voice to make these strains resound, until they catch
from the distance the voices of their partners, and in this
■way they keep up a communication -n-ith them."' Is not that
beautiful? and yet, it is veiy possible that one who heard
them close by, would take little pleasure in such tones which
have to ■vie with the waves of the sea. Human, ho'^'ever, and
true becomes the song in this way: thus is life given to the
melody, on whose dead elements we should otherwise have
been sadly puzzled. It is the song of one solitary, singing at
a distance, in the hope that another of kindi'ed feelings and
sentiments may hear and answer.

Venice, Oct. 8, 1786.

I paid a visit to the palace Pisani Moretta, for the sake of
a charming picture by Paul Veronese. The females of the
familv of Darius are rej^resented kneeHng before Alexander
and Hephajstion ; his mother, who is in the foregroimd, mis-
takes Hephcestion for the king ; — turning away from her he
points to Alexander. A strange stoiy is told about this
painting; the ai'tist had been well received and for a long
time honorably entertained in the palace; in return he
secretly painted the picture and left it behind him as a
present, roUed up imder his bed. Certainly it well deserves
to have had a singular origin, for it gives an idea of aU the
peculiar merits of this master. The great art Avith which he
manages by a skilful distribution of light and shade, and
by an equally clever contrast of the local colors, to pro-
duce a most delightful harmony -without tkrowing any same-
ness of tone over the whole picture, is here most strikingly
visible. For the pictm-e is in excellent preservation, and
stands before us almost with the freshness of yesterday. —
Indeed, whenever a painting of this order has suffered from
neglect, om- enjoyment of it is marred on the spot, even
before we are conscious what the cause may be.

^Mioever feels disposed to quarrel with the artist on the
score of costume has only to say he ought to have painted a
scene of the sixteenth century ; and the matter is at an end.

VEXICE. 311

The gradation in the expression from the mother tlu'ough the
wife to the daughters, is in the highest degree true and
happy. The youngest princess, who kneels behind all the
rest, is a beautiful girl, and has a veiy pretty, but somewhat
independent and haughty coimtenance. Her position does
not at all seem to please her.

October 8, 1786.

My old gift of seeing the world with the eyes of that artist,
whose pictures have most recently made an impression on me,
has occasioned me some peculiai- reflections. It is evident
that the eye forms itself by the objects, which, from youth up,
it is accustomed to look upon, and so the Venetian artist
must see all things in a clearer and brighter light than other
men. We, whose eye when out of doors. faUs on a dingj-
soil, which, when not muddy, is dusty, — and which, always
colourless, gives a sombre hue to the reflected rays, or at home
spend our lives in close, naiTow rooms, can never attain to
such a cheerful view of natm-e.

As I floated down the lagimes in the fall simshine, and
observed how the figures of the gondoliers in their motley
costume, and as they rowed, lightly moving above the sides of
the gondola, stood out from the bright green surface and against
the blue sky, I caught the best and freshest t^i-pe possible of
the Venetian school. The sunshine brought out the local
colours ■with dazzling brilliancy, and the shades even were so
luminous, that, comparatively, they in their tm-n might serve
as lights. And the same may be said of the reflection from
the sea-green water. All was painted "'chiaro nell chiaro,"'
so that foamy waves and lightning flashes were necessary to
give it a gi'and finish {itm die Tiipfchen auf sie zu setzen).

Titian and Paul have this brilliancy in the highest degree,
and whenever we do not find it in any of their works, the
piece is either damaged or has been touched up.

The cupola and vaulting of St. Mark's, with its side-walls,
— are covered with paintings — a mass of richly colored figures
on a golden ground ; all in mosaic work : some of them veiy
good, others but poor, according to the masters who fui"uished
the cartoons.

Circumstances here have strangely impressed on my mind

312 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

how everything depends on the first invention, and that this
constitutes the right standard — the true genius — since with
little square-pieces of glass (and here not in the soberest
manner), it is possible to imitate the good as well as the bad.
The art which furnished to the ancients their pavements, and
to the Christians the vaulted cieliiigs of their churches, fritters
itself away in our days on snulF-box lids and bracelets-clasps.
The present times are worse even than one thinks.

Venice, October 8, 1786.

In the Farsetti palace there is a valuable collection of casts
from the best antiques. I pass over all such as I had seen
before at ^Mannheim or elsewhere, and mention only new
acquaintances. A Cleopatra in intense repose, with the asp
coiled round her arm. and sinking into the sleep of death; —
a Niobe shrouding with her robe her youngest daughter from
the arrows of Apollo; — some gladiators; — a winged genius,
resting in his flight; — some philosophers, both in sitting and
standing postures.

They are works from which, for thousands of years to come,
the world may receive delight and instruction, without ever
being able to equal with their thanks the merits of the artists.

Many speaking busts transported me to the old glorious
times. Only I felt, alas, how backward I am in these studies ;
however, I will go on with them — at least I know the way.
Palladio has opened the road for me to this and every other
art and life. That sounds probably somewhat strange, and
yet not so paradoxical as when Jacob Böhme says that, by
seeing a pewter platter by a ray from Jupiter, he was en-
lightened as to the whole universe. There is also in this
collection a fragment of the entablatiu'c of the temple of An-
toninus and Faustina in Rome.

The bold front of this noble piece of architecture reminded
me of the capitol of the Pantheon at Mannheim. It is, indeed,
something very different from our queer saints, piled up one
above the other on little consoles after the gothic st}lc of
decoration, — something different from our tobacco-pipe-like
shafts, — our little steeple-crowned towers, and foliated ter-
minals,— from all taste for these — I am now, thank God, set
free for ever !

TENICE. 313

I will fiirtlier mention a few works of statuan', which, as I
passed along these last few days, I have observed with asto-
nishment and instruction : before the gate of the arsenal two
huge lions of white marble, — the one is half recumbent, rais-
ing himself up on his fore-feet, — the other is Iving down :
noble emblems of the variety of life. They are of such huge
proportions, that all around appears little, and man himself
would become as nought, did not sublime objects elevate him.
They are of the best times of Greece, and Avere brought here
from the Pirteus in the better days of the Republic.

From Athens, too, in all probabiHty, came two bas-reliefs
which have been introduced in the church of St. Justina, the
conqueress of the Turks. Uufortunately they are in some
degree hidden by the church seats. The sacristan called my
attention to them on account of the tradition that Titian
modelled from them the beautiful angel in his picture of the
martyrdom of St. Peter. The relievos represent genii who
are decking themselves out with the attributes of the gods, —
so beautiful in truth, as to transcend all idea or conception.

Next I contemplated -näth quite peculiar feelings the naked
colossal statue of Marcus Agrippa, in the coui-t of a palace ; a
■dolphin which is twisting itself by his side, points out the
naval hero. How does such a heroic representation make
the mere man equal to the gods!

I took a close view of the horses of S. Mark's. Looking
up at them from below, it is easy to see that they are spotted :
in places they exhibit a beautiful yellow-metallic lustre, in
others a coppery green has run over them. Viewing them
more closely, one sees distinctly that once they were gilt all
over, and long streaks are still to be seen over them, as the bar-
barians did not attempt to file off the gold, but tried to cut it
off. That, too, is well : thus the shape at least has been pre-
served.

A glorious team of horses, — I should like to hear the opinion
of a good judge of horse-flesh. What seemed strange to me
was, that closely A-iewed, they appear heavj', while from the
piazza below they look as light as deer.

314 LETTERS FEOII HALT.

October 8, 1786.

Yesterday I set out early with my tutelary genius for the
"Lido,"' the tongue of land which shuts in the lagunes, and
divides them from the sea. We landed and walked straight
across the isthmus. I heard a loud hollow murmur, — it was
the sea ! I soon saw it : it crested high against the shore,
as it retired, — it was about noon, and time of ebb. I have
then at last seen the sea with my own eyes, and followed it
on its beautiful bed, just as it quitted it. I M-ished the
children had been there to gather the shells ; child-like I
myself picked up plenty of them; however, I attempted to
make them useful ; I tried to diy in them some of the fluid
of the cuttle fish, which here dart away from you in shoals.

On the '"Lido," not far from the sea. is the burial place of
Englishmen, and a little further ou, of the Jews : both alike
ai'e refused the privilege of resting in consecrated ground. I
found here the tomb of Smith, the noble English consul, and
of his first wife. It is to him that I owe my first copy of
Palladio; I thanked him for it here in his unconsecrated
grave. And not onh* imconsecrated, but half biu'ied is the
tomb. The "'Lido'' is at best but a sand-bank [daune): The
sand is carried from it backwards and forwards by the wind,
and thrown up in heaps is encroaching on every side. In a
short time the monument, which is tolerably high, will no
longer be visible.

But the sea — it is a grand sight ! I will tiy and get a sail
upon it some day in a fishing-boat : the gondolas never ventiure
out so far.

Oct. 8, 1786.
On the sea-coast I foimd also several plants, whose charac-
ters similar to others I already knew, enabled me to recognize
pretty weU theh* properties. They are all alike, fat and
strong — full of sap and clammy.- -and it is evident that the
old salt of the sandy soil, but stiU more the saline atmosphere,
gives them these properties. Like aquatic plants they abound
in sap, and are fleshj- and tough, like mountainous ones ; those
whose leaves shew a tendency to put forth prickles, after the
manner of thistles, have them extremely sharp and strong.
I found a bush with leaves of this kind. It looked very much

TEXICE. 315

like our harmless coltsfoot, only here it is armed with sharp
weapons, — the leaves like leather, as also are the seed-vessels,
and the stalk veiy thick and succulent. I bring with me
seeds and specimens of the leaves. {Eryngium maritimmn.)

The fish-market, with its numberless marine productions,
afibrded me much amusement. I often go there to contem-
plate the poor captive inhabitants of the sea.

Venice, Oct. 9, 1786.

A delicious day from moi-ning to night! I have been
towards Chiozza, as far as Pelestrina. where are the gi-eat
structm-es, called Murazzi, which the RepubHc has caused to
be raised against the sea. They are of \ievra. stone, and pro-
perly are intended to protect from the fury of the wild ele-
ment the tongue of land called the Lido, which separates the
lagoons from the sea.

The lagunes are the work of old nature. First of all. the land
and tide, the ebb and flow, working against one another, and
then the gradual sinking of the primal waters, were, together,
the causes why, at the upper end of the Adriatic, we find a
pretty extensive range of marshes, which, covered by the
flood-tide, are partly left bare by the ebb. Art took pos-
session of the highest spots, and thus arose Venice, formed
out of a groupe of a hundred isles, and siuTOunded by
huudi'eds more. Moreover, at an incredible expense of
money and labour, deep canals have been dug thi-ough the
marshes, in order that at the time of high water, ships of war
might pass to the chief points. ^Vhat human industiy and
wit contrived and executed of old, skill and industrj' must
now keep up. The Lido, a long naiTow strip of land, sepa-
rates the lagimes fi'om the sea, which can enter only at two
points — at the castle and at the opposite end near Chiozza.
The tide flows in usually twice a-day, and with the ebb
again canies out the waters twice, and ahvays by the same
channel and in the same direction. The flood covers the
lower parts of the morass, but leaves the higher, if not diy,
yet ■s'isible.

The case would be quite altered were the sea to make new
ways for itself, to attack the tongue of land and flow in and
out wherever it chose. Not to mention that the Httle -v-iUases

316 lETTERS rilOM ITALY.

on the Lido. Pelestrina, viz., S. Peter's and others would be
ovcrwhehncd, the canals of comnuinication would be choked
up, and while the water involved all in ruin, the Lido would
be changed into an island, and the islands which now lie
behind it be converted into necks and tongues of land. To
guard against this it was necessaiy to protect the Lido as far
as possible, lest the furious element should capriciously attack
and overthrow Avhat man had ah'cady taken possession of, and
with a certain end and purpose given shape and use to.

In extraordinary cases when the sea rises above measure, it is
especially necessary to prevent it entering at more than two
points. Accordingly the rest of the sluice-gates being shut,
with all its violence it is unable to enter, and in a few hours
submits to the law of the ebb, and its fury lessens.

Otherwise Venice has nothing to fear; the extreme slow-
ness with which the sea-line retires, assures to her thousands
of years yet, and by prudently deepening the canals from time
to time, they will easily maintain their possessions against the
inroads of the water.

I could only Avish that they kept their streets a little
cleaner :- — a duty which is as necessary as it is easy of per-
formance, and which in fact becomes of great consequence in
the course of centuries. Even now in the principal thorough-
fares it is forbidden to throw anything into the canals: the
sweepings even of the streets may not be cast into them. No
measures, however, are taken to prevent the rain, which here
falls in sudden and violent torrents, from carrying off the dirt
which is collected in piles at the corner of every street, and
washing it into the lagunes — nay, what is still worse, into the
gutters for canying off the water, which conseqiiently are often
so completely stopped up, that the principal squares are in
danger of being under water. Even in the smaller piazza of
S. Mark's, I have seen the gidlies which are well laid doAvn
there, as well as in the greater square, choked up and full of
water.

"V\Tien a rainy day comes, the filth is intolerable ; every
one is cursing and scolding. In ascending and descending
the bridges one soils one's mantle and great coat ( Taharro),
which is here worn all the year long, and as one goes along
in shoes and silk stockings, one gets s])lashed, and then scolds,
for it is not common mud, but mud that adheres and

TEX ICE. 317

stains that one is here splashed with. The weather soon
becomes fine again, and then no one thinks of cleaning the
streets. How true is the saying: the public is ever complain-
ing that is ill served, and never knows how to set about
getting better served. Here if the sovereign-people wished
it, it might be done forthwith.

Venice, Oct. 9, 1786.

Yesterday evening I ascended the tower of S. Mark's : as
I had lately seen fi-om its top the lagunes in their glory at
Hood time, I wished also to see them at low water ; for in
order to have a correct idea of the place, it is necessary to
take in both views. It looks rather strange to see land all
around one, where a little before the eye fell upon a mirror of
waters. The islands are no longer islands — merely higher and
house-cro^vned spots in one large morass of a gray-greenish
colour, and intersected by beaiitiftd canals. The marshy parts
are overgrown with aquatic plants, a circumstance which must
tend in time to raise their level, although the ebb and flow are
continually shaking and tossing them and leave no rest to
the vegetation.

I now turn ^vith mv narrative once more to the sea. — I there
saw yesterday the haunts of the sea-snaüs, the hmpets, and
the crab, and was highly delighted with the sight. What
a precious glorious object is a living thing! — how wonder-
fully adapted to its state of existence, how true, how real
(^spyencl). What great advantages do I not derive now from
my former studies of nature, and how delighted am I with the
opportunity of continuing them ! But as the present is a
matter that admits of being communicated to my friends, I
will not seek to excite their s^^npathJ• merely by exclamations.

Tlie stone-works which have been built against the inroads
of the sea consist first of all of several steep steps ; then
comes a slightly inclined plane, then again they rise a step,
which is once more succeeded by a gently ascemling surface,
and last of all comes a perpendicular wall with an overhanging
coping — over these steps — over these planes the raging sea
rises until in extraordinary cases it even dashes over the high-
est wall with its projecting head.

The sea is followed by its inhabitants ; — ^little periwinkles

318 XETXEES FROM ITALY.

good to eat, monovalve limpets, and whatever else has the
power of motion, especially by the pmigar-crabs. But
scarcely have these little creatures taken possession of the
smooth walls, ere the sea retires again, sweUing and crest-
ing as it came. At first the crowd knows not where they are,
and keep hoping that the briny flood will soon return to them
— but it still keeps away; the sun comes out and quickly
di'ies them up, and now begins the retreat. It is on these
occasions that the pungars seek their prey. Nothing more
wonderfid or comical can be seen than the manoeu^Tes of
these little creatures, with their round bodies and two long claws
(for the other spider-feet are scarcely worth noticing). On
these stilted fore-legs, as it were, they stride along watching
the limpets, and as soon as one moves itself under its shell on
the rock, a pungar comes up and inserting the point of his
claw in the tiny interstice between the shell and the rock
turns it over, and so manages to swallow the oyster. The
limpets, on the other hand, proceed cautiously on their way,
and by suction fasten themselves firmly to the rocky surface
as soon as they are aware of the proximity of their foe. In
such cases the pungar deports himself amusingly enough;
round and round the pulpy animal who keeps himself safe
beneath his roof will he go with singular poKteness ; but not
succeeding with all his coaxing and being unable to overcome
its powerful muscle, he leaves in despair this intended victim,
and hastens after another who may be wandering less cau-
tiously on his way.

I never saw a crab succeed in his designs, although I have
watched for hours the retreat of the little troop as they
crawled down the two planes and the intermediate steps.

Venice, Oct. 10, 1786.
At last I am able to say that I have seen a comedy ; Yes-
terday at the theatre of St. Luke, was performed "• Le Baruffe-
Chiozotte" which I should interpret the Frays and Feuds of
Chiozza. The " clramatü persona^'' are principally seafaring
people, inhabitants of Chiozza, with their wives, sisters, and
daughters. The usual noisy demonstrations of such sort of
people in their good or ill luck — their dealings one with
another, their vehemence, but goodness of heart, common -place

VENICE. 319

remarks and unafiected manners, their naive wit and humom- —
all this vras excellently imitated. The piece, moreover, is
Goldoni's, and as I had been only the day before in the place
itself, and as the tones and manners of the sailors and people
of the sea-port still echoed in my ears and floated before my
eyes, it delighted me very mnch, and although I did not
understand a single allusion, I was, nevertheless, on the
whole, able to foUow it pretty well. I will now give you the
plan of the piece : — it opens with the females of Chiozza sit-
ting, as usual, on the strand before their cabins, spinning,
mending nets, sewing, or making lace ; a youth passes by and
notices one of them with a more friendly greeting than the
rest. Immediately the joking begins — and observes no boimds ;
becoming tarter and tarter, and growing ill-tempered it soon
bursts out into reproaches ; abuse vies with abuse ; in the
midst of all one dame more vehement than the rest, bounces
out with the truth; and now an endless din of scolding, rail-
ing, and screaming ; there is no lack of more decided outrage,
and at last the peace-officers are compelled to interfere.

The second act opens with the Court of Justice. In the
absence of the Podesta (who as a noble could not lawfully be
brought upon the stage) the Actuarius presides. He orders
the women to be brought before him one by one. This gives rise
to an interesting scene. It happens that this official personage
is himself enamoured of the first of the combatants who is
brought before him. Only too happy to have an opportunity
of spealving -«dth her alone, instead of hearing what she has to
say on the matter in question, he makes her a declaration of
love. In the midst of it a second woman, who is herself in
love with the actuaiy, in a fit of jealousy laishes in, and with
her the suspicious lover of the first damsel — who is followed
by all the rest, and now the same demon of confusion riots
in the coiu-t as a little before, had set at loggerheads the
people of the harbour. In the third act the fun gets more
and more boisterous, and the whole ends with a hasty and
poor denouement. The happiest thought, however, of the
■whole piece, is a character who is thus dra^vn. — an old sailor
who from the hardships he has been exposed to from his
childliood, trembles and falters in all his limbs, and even in his
very organs of speech, is brought on the scene to serve as a
foil to this restless, screaming, and jabbering crew. Before

320 LETTERS FROXr ITALY.

lie can utter a word, he has to make a long preparation by a
slow twitching of his lips, and an assistant motion of his
hands and arms ; at last he blurts out what his thoughts are on
the matter in dispute. But as he can only manage to do this
in very short sentences, he acquires thereby a sort of laconic
gravity, so that all he utters sounds like an adage or maxim ;
and in tliis way a happy contrast is afforded to the wild and
passionate exclamations of the other personage;?.

But even as it was, I never witnessed anytniug like the
noisy delight the people evinced at seeing themselves and
their mates represented with such truth of natm-e. It was
one continued laugh and tumultuous shout of exultation from
beginning to end. I must, however, confess that the piece was
extremely well acted by the players. According to the cast
of their several parts, they had adopted among them the dif-
ferent tones of voice which usually prevail among the inhabit-
ants of the place. The first actress was the universal flivorite,
more so even than she had recently been in an heroic dress
and a scene of passion. The female players generally, but
especially this one, in the most pleasing manner possible
imitated the twang, the manners, and other peculiarities of
the people they represented. Great praise is due to the
author, who out of nothing has here created the most amusing
divertissement. However, he never could have done it with any
other people than his own merry and lighthearted countrymen.
The farce is written throughout with a practised hand.

Of Sacchi's company, for whom Gozzi Avrote (but which
by-the-by is now broken up), I saw Smeraldina, a short
plump figure, full of life, tact, and good humour. With her
I saw Brighclla — a slight well-made man and an excellent
actor, especially in pantomime. These masks which we
scarcely know except in the form of mummings, and which to
our minds possess neither life nor meaning, succeed here only
too well as the creation of the national taste. Here the most
distinguished characters, persons of every age and condition,
think nothing of di-essing themselves out in the strangest
costumes, and as for the greater part of the year they are
accustomed to wander about in masks, they feel no surprise
at seeing the black visors on the sta^e also.

VENICE. 321

Venice, October 11, 1786.
Since solitude, in the midst of a great cro\A'd of human
beings, is after all not possible, I have taken up with an old
Frenchman, who knows nothing of Italian, and suspects that
he is cheated on aU hands and taken advantage of, and who,
with plenty of letters of recommendation, nevertheless, does
not make his way with the good people here. A man of
rank, and li\'ing in good style, but one whose mind cannot go
beyond himself and his own imniediate circle — he is jierhaps
full fifty, and has at home a boy seven years old, of whom he
is always anxious to get news. He is travelling tlu'ough
Italy for pleasure, but rapidly — in order to be able to say
that he has seen it, but is willing to learn whatever is pos-
sible as he hurries along. I have shcAvn him some civilities,
and have given him information about many matters. While
I was speaking to him about Venice, he asked me how long
I had been here, and when he heard that this was my first
visit, and that I had only been here fourteen days, he replied :
'■'• II parait que vous n' avez pas perdu voire temps.''' Tliis is the
first "testimonium" of my good behaviour that I can furnish
you. This is the eighth day since he arrived here, and he
leaves us to-moiTOw. It M^as highly delicious to me, to meet
in a strange land with such a regular VersaiUcs'-man. He is
now about to quit me ! It caused me some surprise to think
that any one could ever travel in this temper without a thought
for an)i;hing beyond himself, and yet he is in his way a
polished, sensible, and well conducted person.

Venice, Oct. 12, 1786.
Yesterday at S. Luke's a new piece was acted: — L'lngli-
cismo in Italia (the English in Italy). As there are many
Englishmen living in Italy, it is not unnatural that their ways
and habits should excite notice, and I expected to learn from
this piece what the Italians thought of their rich and welcome
visitors. But it was a total failure. There were, of course,
(as is always the case here,) some clever scenes between buf-
foons, but the rest was cast altogether in too grave and heavy
a mould, and yet not a trace of the English good sense;
plenty of the ordinary Italian commonplaces of morality, and
those, too, upon the very commonest of topics.
Vol. II. y

322 LETTERS from: ITALY.

And it did not take : indeed, it was on the very point of
being hissed off the stage. The actors felt themselves out of
their element — not on the strand of Chiozza. As this was
the last piece that I saw here, my enthusiasm for these
national representations did not seem Likely to be increased by
this piece of folly.

As I have at last gone through my journal and entered
some occasional remarks fi'om my tablets, my proceedings
are now enrolled and left to the sentence of my friends. There
is, I am conscious, very much in these leaves which 1 might
qualify, enlarge upon, and improve. Let, however, what
is -«Titten, stand as the memorial of first impressions, which,
if not always cori'ect, will nevertheless be ever dear and
precious to me. Oh that I could but transmit to my friends
a breath merely of this light existence! Yerily to the
Italian, "ultramontane"' is a very vague idea; and to me
even — "beyond the Alps,*' rises very obscurely before my mind,
although from out of their mists friendly forms are beckoning
to me. It is the climate only that seduces me to prefer awhile
these lands to those ; for birth and habit forge strong fetters.
Here, however, I could not live, nor indeed in any place where
I had nothing to occupy my mind ; but at present novelty ftir-
nishes me here ^ith endless occupation. Architecture rises,
like an ancient spirit from the tombs, and bids me study its laws
just as people do the rules of a dead language, not in order to
practise or to take a living joy in them, but only in order to
enable myself in the quiet depths of my own mind to do honor to
her existence in bygone ages, and her for ever departed glory.
As Palladio eveiyvvhere refers one to Vitruvius, I have bought
an edition of the latter by Galiani; but this folio suffers in
my portmanteau as much as my brain does in the study of it.
Palladio by his words and works, by his method and way,
both of thinking and of executing, has brought "S'itnivius
home to me and interpreted him far better than the Italian
translator ever can. Vitruvius himself is no easy reading;
his book is obscurely written, and requii-es a critical study.
Notwithstanding I have read it through ciu'sorily, and it has
left on my mind many a glorious impression. To express my
meaning better : I read it like a breviary: more out of devo-
tion, than for instruction. Ali'eady the days begin to draw
in and allow more time for reading and writinsr.

VENICE. 323

God be praised ! -u-hatever from my youth up appeared to
me of worth, is beginning once more to be dear to roe. How
happy do I feel that I can again venture to approach the
ancient authors. For now, I may dare tell it — and confess at
ouce my disease and my foUy. For many a long year I could
not bear to look at a Latin author, or to cast my eye upon any-
thing that might serve to awaken in my mind the thoughts
of Italy. If by accident I did so, I suffered the most horrible
toitures of mind. It was a frequent joke of Herder's at
my expense, that I had learned all my Latin from Spiaoza,
for he had noticed that this was the only Latia work I ever
read ; but he was not aware how carefully I was obliged to
keep myself fi'om the ancients — how even these abstruse
generalities were but cursorily read by me, and even then not
without pain. At last matters came to that pitch that even
the peiTisal of Wielands ti'anslation of the Satires made me
utterly wretched ; scarcely had I read two of them, before I
was compelled to lay the book aside.

Had I not made the resolve, which I am now carrying into
effect, I should have been altogether lost — to such a degree
of intensity had the desire grown to see these objects with
my o^vn eyes. Historical acquaintance with them did me no
good; — the things stood only a hands-breadth awaj' from
me : but stul they were separated from me by an impene-
trable Willi. And, in fact, at the present moment, I somehow
feel as if this were not the fii-st time that I had seen these
things, but as if I were paying a second visit to them. Al-
though I have been but a short time in Yenice, I have
adapted myself pretty well to the ways of the place, and feel
confident that I shall cany away with me, though a very
incomplete, yet, nevertheless, clear and true idea of it.

Venice, Oof. 14, 1786.
2 o'clock, morning.
In the last moments of my stay here : for I am to start
almost immediately with the packet-boat for Ferrara. I quit
Venice -«äthout reluctance; for to stay here longer with any
satisfaction and profit to myself, I must take other steps
which would carry me beyond my present plan. Besides
everybody is now lea'sing this city and making for the beau-

Y 2

324 LETTERS EßOJI ITALY.

tiful gardens and seats on the Terra-Firma ; I, however, go
away well-loaded, and shall carry along with me its rich, rare,
and unique image.

FROM FERRARA TO ROME.

Oct. 16, 1786.
Early and on hoard the packet.
My travelling companions, male and female alike, are all
still fast asleep in their berths. For my part I have passed
the two nights on deck, wrapped up in my cloak. It was
only towards morning that I felt it at all cold.. I am now
actually in latitude forty-five, and yet go on repeating my
old song : I would gladly leave all to the inhabitants of the
land, if only, after the fashion of Dido, I could enclose enough
of the heavens to surround our dwellings with. It would
then be quite another state of existence. The voyage in this
glorious weather has been most delightful, the vicAVS and
prospects simple but agreeable. The Po, with its fertilizing
stream, flows here through wide plains ; nothing, however, is
to be seen but its banks covered with trees or bushes ; — you
catch no distant view. On this river, as on the Adige, are
silly water- works, which are as rude and iU- constructed as
those on the Saal.

Ferrara, Oct. 16, 1786.
At night.
Although I only arrived here early this morning (by 7
o'clock, German time), I am thinking of setting ofi' again to-
morrow morning. For the first time since I left home, a
feeling of dissatisfaction has fallen upon me in this great and
beautiful, but flat and depopulated city. These streets, now
so desolate, were, however, once kept in animation by a bril-
liant court. Here dwelt Ariosto discontented, and Tasso
unhappy, and so, we fancy, we gain edification by visiting
such scenes. Ariosto's monument contains much marble —
iU arranged; for Tasso's prison, they shew you a wood-house
or coalhouse where, most assuredly, he never was kept.
Moreover, the people pretend to know scarcely anj-thing you

FEKRAKA. — CENTO. 325

may ask about. But at last for "something to drink" they
manage to remember. All this brings to my mind Luther's
ink-spots, which the housekeeper freshens up from time to
tmie. Most travellers, however, are httle better than our
'•• Handiverkshurschen'''' or stolling jouraeymen, and content
themselves with such palpable signs. For my part I became
quite sulky, and took little interest even in a beautiful insti-
tute and academy, which a cardinal, a native of Ferrara,
fomided and endowed; however, some ancient monuments,
in the Ducal Palace, served to revive me a little; and I was
put in perfect good humor by a beautiful conception of a
painter, John the Baptist before Herod and Herodias. The
prophet, in his well-known di'ess of the wilderness, is pointing
indignantly at Herodias. Quite unmoved, she looks at the
prince, who is sitting by her side, while the latter regards the
prophet with a calm but cunning look; a white middle-sized
greyhound stands before the king, while from beneath the
robe of Herodias, a small Italian one is peeping — both
giving tongue at the pi-ophet. To my mind, this is a most
happy thought.

Cento, Oct. 17, 1786.

In a better temper than yesterday, I write you to-day from
Guercino's native city. It, however, is quite a different place:
an hospitable well-built Httle town, of nearly 5000 inhabitants,
flomishing, full of Ufe, cleanly, and situated in a well cul-
tivated plain, which stretches farther than the eye can reach.
According to my usual custom, I ascended the tower. A sea
of poplars, between which, and near at hand, one caught
glimpses of little countiy-houses, each surrounded by its
fields. A rich soil and a beautiful climate. It was an
autumn evening, such as we seldom have to thank even sum-
mer for. The sky, which had been veiled all day, has cleared
up, the clouds rollirig off north and south towards the moun-
tains, and I hope for a bright day to-morrow.

Here I first saw the Apennines, which I am approaching.
The winter in this region lasts only through December and
January: April is rainy — for the rest of the year beautiful
weather, according to the nature of the season. Incessant
rain is unknown. September here, to tell you the truth, was

326 XETTERS I'KOM ITALY.

finer and wanner than August with you. The Apennines in
the south have received a wann greeting from me, for I
have now had enough of the plain. To-morrow I shall be
writing at the foot of them.

Guerciuo loved his native town : indeed, the Italians almost
iiniversaUy cherish and maintain this sort of local patriotism,
and it is to this beautiful feeling that Italy owes so many of
its valuable institutions and its niidtitude of local sanctuaries.
Under the management of this master, an academy of paint-
ing was formed here. He left behind him many paintings,
which his townsmen are still very proud of, and which,
indeed, fully justify their pride.

Guercino is here a sacred name, and that, too, in the
mouths of children as well as of the old.

Most channed was I %vith liis pictui'e, representiug the
risen Lord, appearing to his mother. Kneeling before Him,
she looks upon Him with indescribable affection. Her left
hand is touching His body just under the accm'sed wound
which mars the whole picture. His hand lies upon her neck;
and in order the better to gaze upon her, his body is shghtly
bent back. This gives to His figui-e a somewhat strange, not
to say forced appearance. And yet for all that it is infinitely
beautiful. The calm and sad look, with which He contem-
plates her, is unique and seems to convey the impression that
before His noble soul there still floats a remembrance of His
own sufferings and of hers, which the resun-ection had not at
once dispelled.

Strange has engi-aved the picture. I wish that my Mends
coidd see even his copy of it,

After it a Madonna won my admiration. The child wants
the breast ; she modestly .shrinks fr-om exposing her bosom.
Natm-al, noble, exquisite, and beautiful.

Further, a Mary, who is gmding the arm of the infant
Chi'ist, standing before her with His face towards the people,
in order that with uphfted fingers He may bestow His bles-
sings upon them. Judged by the spirit of the Roman Catho-
lic legends, this must be pronounced a veiy happy idea. It
has been often repeated.

Guercino is an intrinsically bold, mascidine, sensible pain-
ter, without roughness. On the contrary, his pieces possess
a certain tender moral gi-ace, a reposefid freedom and gran-

I

BOLOGNA. 327

deur, but with all that, a certain mannerism, so that M-hen the
eye once has gro^^Ti accustomed to it, it is impossible to mis-
take a piece of his hand. The lightness, cleanness, and finish
of his touch are perfectly astonishing. For his drajieries he
is pai'ticidarly fond of a beautifid brownish-red blend of
colours. These harmonize very well with the blue which he
loves to combine with them.

The subjects of the other paintings are more or less un-
happily chosen. The good artist has strained all his powers,
but his invention and execution alike are thrown away and
wasted. However, I derived both entertainment and profit
from the view of this cycle of art, although such a hasty and
rapid glance as I could alone bestow upon them, afibrds but
little, either of gratification or instruction.

Bologna, Oct. 18, 1786.
Night.

Yesterday I started very early — before daybreak — from
Cento, and arrived here in pretty good time. A brisk and
well-educated cicerone ha^ing learned that I did not intend to
make a long stay here, hurried me through all the streets,
and into so many palaces and chm-ohes that I had scarcely
time to set down in my note-book the names of them, and I
hardly know if hereafter, when I shall look again at these
scrawls, I shall be able to .call to mind all the particulars, I
will now mention, however, a couple or so of objects which
stand out bright and clear enough as they afibrded me a real
gi'atification at the time.

Fii'st of all the Cecilia of Raphael ! It was exactly what I
had been told of it ; but now I saw it with my ovati eyes. He
has invariably accomplished that which others wished in vain
to accompKsh, and I would at present say no more of it than
that it is by him. Five saints, side by side, not one of them has
anj-thing m common with««; however theii- existence, stands
so perfectly real that one would wish for the picture to last
through eternity, even though for himself he could be content
to be annihilated. But in order to understand Ilaphael aright,
and to foi-m a just appreciation of him, and not to praise him
as a god or as Melchisedec " without descent" or pedigree, it
is necessary to study his masters and liis predecessors. These,

328 XETTERS PEOM ITALY.

too, had a standing on the firm soil of truth ; diligently, not to
say anxiously, they had laid the foundation, and A'icd with
each other in raising, step by step, the p}Tamid aloft, until,
at last, profiting by all their labors, and enlightened by a
heavenly genius, Raphael set the last stone on the summit,
above which, or even at which, no one else can ever stand.

Our interest in the history of art becomes pecuhaly lively
■when we consider the works of the old masters. Francesco
Francia is a veiy respectable artist. Pietro Perugino, so bold
a man that one might almost call him a noble Gennan fellow.
Oh that fate had carried Albert Dürer further into Italy. In
Munich I saw a couple of pieces by him of incredible gran-
deur. The poor man, how did he mistake his o^yu worth in
Venice, and make an agreement with the priests, on which he
lost weeks and months! See him in his journey through the
Netherlands exchanging his noble works of art for paiTots,
and in order to save his " douceur," drawing the portraits of
the domestics, who bring him — a plate of fruit. To me the
history of such a poor fool of an artist is infinitely touching.

Towards evening I got out of this ancient, venerable, and
learned city, and extricated myself fi'om its crowds, who, pro-
tected from the sun and weather by the arched bowers which
are to be seen in almost even,- street, walk about, gape about,
or buy, and sell, and transact whatever business they may
have. I ascended the tower and enjoyed the pure air. The
view is glorious! To the north we see the hills of Padua;
beyond them the Swiss, Tp-olese, and Friuiian Alps; in short,
the whole northern chain, which, at the time, Avas enveloped
in mist. Westward there stretched a boundless horizon,
above which the towers of Modena alone stood out. Towards
the east a similar plain reaching to the shores of the Adriatic,
whose waters might be discerned in the setting stm. Towards
the south, the first hills of the Apennines, which, like the
Vicentine Hills, are jjlanted up to their stmimits, or covered
with chm-ches, palaces, and summer-houses. The sky was
perfectly clear, not a cloud to be seen, only on the horizon a
kind of haze. Tlie keeper of the tower assured me that for
six years this mist had never left the distance. Other^\-ise,
by the hclji of a telescope, you might easily discern the hills
of Vicenza, with their houses and chapels, but now very
rarely, even on the brightest days. And this mist lay chiefly

BOLOGXA. 329

on the Northern Chain, and makes our beloved Fatherland a
regular Cimmeria. In proof of the salubrity of the situation
and pui-e atmosphere of the citj'. he called mj' notice to the fact,
that the roofs of the houses looked quite fresh, and that not a
single tue was attacked by damp or moss. It must be confessed
that the tiles look quite clean, and beautiful enough, but the
good quality of the brick-earth may have something to do
with this ; at least we know that, in ancient times, excellent
tiles were made in these parts.

The leaning tower has a frightful look, and yet it is most
probable that it was built so by design. The following seems
to me the explanation of this absm-dity. In the disturbed
times of the city every large edifice was a foiixess, and every
powerful famuy had its tower. By and bye the possession
of such a buuding became a mark of splendom* and distinc-
tion, and as, at last, a pei-pendicular tower was a common and
cvery-day thing, an oblique one was built. Both architect
and owner have obtained their object; the miiltitude of slen-
der, upright towers are just looked at, and all huriy to see the
leaning one. Afterwards I ascended it. The bricks are all
aiTanged horizontally. With clamps and good cement one
may build any mad whim.

Bologna, Oct. 19, 1786.

I have spent this day to the best advantage I could in visit-
ing and revisiting ; but it is with art as with the world : the
more we study it the larger we find it. In tliis heaven new
stars are constantly appearing which I cannot count, and
which sadly puzzle me ; the Carracci, a Guido, a Dominichino,
who shone forth in a later and happier period of art, but ti-uly
to enjoy whom requires both knowledge and judgment which
I do not possess, and which cannot be acquii-ed in a hmiy.
A great obstacle to our taking a pure delight in their pictiu-es,
and to an immediate understanding of their merits, is the
absurd subjects of most of them. To admire or to be charmed
■«•ith them one must be a madman.

It is as though the sons of God had wedded with the daughters
of men, and out of such an union many a monster had sprung
into existence. No sooner are you attracted by the guslo of
a Guido and his pencu, by Mhich nothing but the most excel-

330 XETTEIIS FKOJI ITALY.

lent objects the eye sees are wortliy to be painted, but you, at
once, withdraw your eyes from a subject so abominably
stupid that the world has no term of contempt sufficient to
express its meanness; and so it is throughout. It is ever
anatomy — an execution — a flajing scene — always some suffer-
ing, never an action of the hero — never an interest in the
scene before you — always something for the fancy — some
excitement accruing from without. Nothing but deeds of
horror or conviüsive sufferings, malefactors or fanatics, along
side of whom the artist, in order to save his art, invariably slips
in a naked boy or a pretty damsel as a spectator, in every case
treating his spiritual heroes as little better than lay-fig-ures
{gliedermanner), on which to hang some beautiful mantle
with its folds. In aU there is nothing that suggests a human
notion! Scarcely one subject in ten that ever ought to have
been painted, and that one the painter has chosen to view
from any but the right point of view.

Guide's great picture in the Church of the Mendicants is
all that painting can do, but, at the same time, aU that
absiu'dity could task an artist with. It is a votive piece. I
can well believe that the whole consistoiy praised it, and also
devised it. The two angels, Avho were fit to console a Psyche
in her miserj^ must here ....

The S. Proclus is a beautiful figure, but the others — •
bishops and popes! Below are heavenly chilcfren playing
with attributes. The painter, who had no choice left him,
labom-ed to help himself as best he could. He exerted himself
merely to show that he was not the barbarian. Two naked
figm-es by Guido ; a St. John in the Wilderness ; a Sebastian,
how exquisitely painted, and what do they say? the one is
gaping and the other wrigghng.

Were I tb contemplate history in my present iU humor, I
should say. Faith revived art, but Superstition immediately
made itself master of it, and ground it to the dust.

After dinner, seeming somewhat of a milder temper and
less arrogantly disposed than in the morning, I entered the fol-
lowing remarks in my note-book. In the palace of the Tanari
there Ls a famous picture by Guido, the Virgin suclding the
infant Saviour — of a size rather larger than life — the head as
if a god had painted it, — indescribable is the expression with
which she gazes upon the sucking infant. To me it seems a

BOLOGNA, 331

calm, profound resignation, as if she were noitrishing not the
child of her joy and love, but a supposititious, heavenly
changeUng ; aud goes on suclding it because now she cannot
do otherwise, although, in deep humility, she Avonders how
she ever came to do it. The rest of the canvass is filled up
with a mass of drapery which connoisseurs highly prize.
For my p;irt I know not what to make of it. The colours, too,
are somewhat dim; the room and the day were none of tlie
brightest.

Notwithstanding the confusion in which I find myself I yet
feel that experience, knowledge, and taste, ah-cady come to my
aid in these mazes. Thus I was greatly won by a " Cir-
cimicision" by Guercino, for I have begim to know and to
imderstand the man. I can now pardon the intolerable sub-
ject and delight in the masterly execution. Let him paint
whatever can be thought of, eveiything will be praiseworthy
and as highly finished as if it were enamel.

And thus it happened with me as with Balaam the over-
ruled prophet, who blessed where he thought to curse ; and I
fear this woidd be the case stiU oftener were I to stay here
much longer.

And then, again, if one happens to meet with a picture after
Eaphael, or what may ■with at least some probability be
ascribed to him, one is soon perfectly cured and in good tem-
per again. I fell in yesterday with a S. Agatha, a rare
picture, though not throughout in good keeping. The artist
has given to her the mien of a young maiden full of health
and self-possession, but yet Avithout rusticity or coldness. I
have stamped on my mind both her form and look, and shall
mentally read before her my " Iphigenia," and shall not allow
my heroine to express a sentiment which the saint herself
might not give utterance to.

And now when I think again of this sweet bm-den which I
cany ^väth me throughout my wanderings, I cannot conceal
the fact that, besides the gi-eat objects of nature and art,
which I have yet to work my way through, a wonderful train
of poetical images keeps rising before me and unsettling me.
From Cento to this place I have been wishing to continue my
labors on the Iphigenia, but what has happened? inspiration
has brought before my mind the plan of an " Iphigenia at
Delphi," aud I must work it out. I will here set do^vn the
argviment as briefly as possible.

332 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

Electra, confidently hoping that Orestes will bring to Delphi
the image of the Taurian Diana, makes her appearance in the
Temple of Apollo, and as a final sin-offering dedicates to the
god, the axe which has perpetrated so many horrors in the
honse of Pelops. Unhappily she is, at this moment, joined
by a Greek, who recounts to her how, having accompanied
Pylades and Orestes to Tauris, he there saw the two friends
led to execution, but had himself luckily made his escape.
At this news the passionate Electra is unable to restrain her-
self, and knows not whether to vent her rage against the gods
or against men.

In the mean time Iphigenia, Orestes, and Pylades have
arrived at Delphi. The heavenly calmness of Iphigenia con-
trasts remarkably with the earthly vehemence of Electra, as
the two sisters meet without knowing each other. The fugi-
tive Greek gains sight of Iphigenia, and recognizing in her the
priestess, who was to have sacrificed the two friends, makes
it known to Electra. The latter snatching the axe from the
altar, is on the point of killing Ijjhigenia, when a happy
incident averts this last feai-ful calamity from the two sisters.
This situation, if only I can succeed in working it out well,
will probably furnish a scene unequalled for grandeur or
pathos by any that has yet been produced on the stage. But
where is man to get time and hands for such a work, even if
the spirit be willing.

As I feel myself at present somewhat oppressed with such
a flood of thoughts of the good and desirable, I cannot help
reminding my friends of a dream which I had about a year
ago, and which appeared to me to be highly significant. I
dreamt forsooth, that I had been sailing about in a httle boat
and had landed on a fertile and richly cultivated island, of
which I had a consciousness that it bred the most beautiful
pheasants in the world. I bargained, I thought, with the
people of the island for some of these birds, and they killed
and brought them to me in great numbers. They were phea-
sants indeed, but as in dreams aU things are generally changed
and modified, they seemed to have long, richly coloured tads,
like the loveliest birds of Paradise, and wdth eyes like those
of the peacock. Bringing them to me by scores, they
arranged them in the boat so skilfully with the heads inwards,
the long variegated feathers of the tail hanging outwards, as

BOLOGXA, 333

to form in the bright sunshine the most glorious pile conceivable,
and so large as scarcely to leave room enough in the bow and
the stern for the rower and the steersman. As Avith this load
the boat made its way through the tranquil waters, I named
to myself the friends among whom I should like to distribute
those variegated treasures. At last, arriving in a spacious
harbour, I was almost lost among great and many masted
vessels, as I mounted deck after deck in order to discover a
place where I might safely run my little boat ashore.

Such dreamy visions have a charm, inasmuch as springing
from our mental state, they possess more or less of analogy
with the rest of our lives and fortunes.

But now I have also been to the famed scientific building,
called the Institution or "Gli Studj." The edifice is large,
and the inner court especially has a very imposing appearance,
although not of the best style of architecture. In the stair-
cases and corridors there was no want of stuccoes and fres-
coes : they are all appropriate and suitable, and the numerous
objects of beauty, which, well worth seeing, are here collected
together, justly command our admiration. For all that,
however, a German, accustomed to a more liberal course of
study than is here pm-sued, will not be altogether content
with it.

Here again a former thought occurred to me, and I could
not but reflect on the pertinacity which in spite of time, which
changes all things, man shows in adhering to the old shapes
of his public buildings, even long after they have been applied
to new purposes. Our churches still retain the form of the Basi-
lica, although probably the plan of the temple would better suit
our worship. In Italy the courts of justice are as spacious
and lofty as the means of a community are able to make
them. One can almost fancy oneself to be in the open air,
where once justice used to be administered. And do we not
build our great theatres with their offices under a roof exactly
similar to those of the first theatrical booths of a fair, which
"were hurriedly put together of planks ? The vast multitude
of those in whom, about the time of the Reformation, a thü'st
for knowledge was awakened, obliged the scholars at om*
universities to take shelter as they could in the burghers'

*

334 XETTEKS TEOM ITALY.

houses, and it was veiy long before any colleges for pupils
( Waisenhäuser), were built, thereby facilitating for the poor
youths the acquirement of the necessary education for the
world.

I have spent the whole of this bright and beautiful day
under the open heaven: scarcely do I ever come near a moun-
tain, but my interest in rocks and stones again revives. I
feel as did Antajus of old, who found himseK endued with
new strength, as often as he was brought into fresh contact
with his mother earth. I rode towards Palermo, where is
found the so-called Bolognese sulphate of Bar}i;es, out of
which are made the little cakes which, being calcined, shine
in the dark, if previously they have been exposed to the Hght,
and which the people here call shortly and expressively
"fosfori."

On the road, after leaving behind me a hilly track of argil-
laceous sandstone, I came upon whole rocks of selenite, quite
visible on the surface. Near a brickkiln a cascade precipi-
tates its waters, into which many smaller ones also empty
themselves. At first sight the traveller might suppose he saw
before him a loamy hill, which had been worn away by the
rain ; on a closer examination I discovered its tnie nature to
be as follows : — ^the solid rock of which this part of the line
of hills consists is schistous, bitmninous clay of very fine
strata, and alternating with gypsum. The schistous stone is
80 intimately blended with pj-rites that, exposed to the air
and moisture, it wholly changes its nature. It swells, the
strata gradually disappear, and there is formed a kind of pot-
ter's clay, crumbling, shelly, and glittering on the siu-face like
stone-coal. It is only by examining large pieces of both (I
myself broke several, and observed the forms of both), that it
is possible to convince oneself of the transition and change.
At the same time we observed the shelly strata studded
with white points, and occasionally also variegated with
yeUow particles. In this way, by degrees, the whole surface
cnimbles away, and the hill looks like a mass of weather-
worn pjfites on a large scale. Among the lamina some are
harder, of a green and red color. Pyrites I very often found
disseminated in the rock.

I now passed along the channels which the last violent

BOLOGNA. LEGANO. 335

gullies of rain had worn in the cnunbling rock, and to my
gi-eat delight foimd many specimens of the desired bai'j'tes,
mostly of an imperfect egg-shape, peeping out in several
places of the friable stone, some tolerably pure, and some
slightly mingled with the clay in -which they were imbedded.
That they have not been carried hither by external agency
any one may convince himself at the first glance; whether
they were contemporaneous with the schistous clay, or whe-
ther they first arose from the swelling and dissolving of the
latter, is matter calling for further inquiry. Of the specimens
I found, the larger and smaller approximated to an imperfect
egg-shape ; the smallest might be said to verge upon in-egiüar
crystalhne forms. The heaviest of the pieces I brought
away weighed seventeen loth (8^ oz.) Loose in the same clay,
I also found perfect crystals of gypsum. IMineralogists wiU
be able to point out further jiecidiarities in the specimens I
bring with me. And I was now again loaded with stones !
I have packed up at least half a quarter of a hundred- weight.

Oct. 20, 1786, in the night.
How much should I have stul to say, were I to attempt to
confess to you aU that in this beautiful day has passed through
my mind. But my wishes are more powerful than my
thoughts. I feel myself hmTied iiTOsistibly forward; it is only
with an effort that I can collect myself sufficiently to attend to
what is before me. And it seems as if heaven heard my secret
prayer. Word has just been brought me that there is a
vetturino going straight to Rome, and so the day after to-
morrow I shall set out direct for that city; I must, therefore,
to-day and to-moiTow. look after my affaii's, make aU my
little arrangements, and despatch my many commissions.

Legano on the Apennines,
Oct. 21, 1786.
WTiether I have to-day left Bologna, or whether I have
been driven out of it, I cannot say. Enough that I eagerly
availed myself of an earlier opportimity of quitting it. And
so here I am at a wretched inn, in company Mith an officer of
the Pope's army, who is going to Perugia, where he was born.

336 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

In order to say something as I seated myself by his side in
the two-wheeled carriage, I paid him the compliment of
remarking, that as a German accustomed to associate with
soldiers, I foimd it very agreeable to have to travel with an
officer of the Pope. ''Pray do not," he replied, '' be offended
at what I am about to answer — it is all very well for you to be
fond of the military profession, for, in Germany, as I have
heard, everything is military; but %\ith regard to myself,
although our service is light enough, so that in Bologna,
where I am in garrison, I can do just as I like, still I heartily
wish I were rid of this jacket, and had the disposal of my
father's little property. But I am a younger son and so
must be content."

Oct. 22, 1786. Evening.

Here, at Ciredo, which also is a little paltry place on the
Apennines, I feel myself quite happy, knowing that I am
advancing towards the gratification of my dearest wishes.
To-day we were joined by a riding party — a gentleman and a
lady — an Englishman and a soi-disant sister. Their horses
are beautiful, but they ride imattcnded by any servants, and
the gentleman, as it appears, acts the part both of groom and,
valet de chambre. Everywhere they find something to com-
plain of — to listen to them is like reading a few pages out of
Ai-chenholz's book.

To me the Apennines are a most remarkable portion of the
world. The great plains of the basin of the Po are followed
by a hilly tract which rises out of the bottom, in order, after
running between the two seas, to form the southern extremity
of the Continent. If the hills had been not quite so steep
and higli above the level of the sea, and had not their direc-
tions crossed and recrossed each other as they do, the ebb and
flow of the tides in primeval times might have exercised
a greater and wider influence on them, and might have
washed over and formed extensive plains, in which case this
would have been one of the most beautiful regions of this
glorious clime — somewhat higher than the rest of it. As it
is, however, it is a strong net of mountain ridges, interlacing
each other in all directions — one often is puzzled to know
whither the waters will find their vent. If the valleys were

FLOKEXCE. PERUGIA. 337

better filled up, and the bottoms flatter and more ii-rigated,
the land might be compared to Bohemia, only that the momi-
tains have in every respect a difierent chai'acter. However,
it must not for one moment be thought of as a mountainous
waste, but as a highly cultivated though hilly district. The
chestnut grows very fine here; the wheat excellent, and that
of this year's sowing, is already of a beautiful green. Along
the roads are planted ever-green oaks with theii' small leaves,
but around the churches and chapels the slim cypress.

Perugia, October, 25, 1786. Evening.

For two evenings I have not written. The inns on the
road were so wretchedly bad that it was quite useless to think
of bringing out a sheet of paper. Moreover, 1 begin to be a
little puzzled to find auj-thing, for since quitting Venice the
travelling bag has got more and more into confusion.

Early in the morning (at 23 o'clock, or about 10 of our
reckoning) we left the region of the Apennines and saw Flo-
rence in an extensive valley, which is highly cultivated and
sprinkled over with villas and houses without end.

I ran rapidly over the city, the cathedral, the baptistery.
Here again a perfectly new and unkno\\Ti world opened upon
me, on which, however, I M-ill not further dwell. The gar-
dens of the Botoli are most delightfully situated. I hastened
out of them as fast as I had entered them.

In the city we see the proof of the prosperity of the gene-
rations who built it ; the conviction is at once forced upon us
that they must have enjoyed a long succession of wise rulers.
But above all one is struck with the beauty and grandeur
which distinguish all the pubHc works, and roads, and bridges
in Tuscany. Everything here is at once substantial and clean ;
use and profit not less than elegance are alike kept in \-iew,
everj-^'here we discern traces of the care which is taken to
preserve them. The cities of the Papal States on the contrary
only seem to stand, because the earth is unwilling to swallow
them up.

The sort of country' that I lately remarked, the region of the

Apennines, might have been, is what Tuscany reaUy is. As it

Hes so much lower the ancient sea was able to do its duty

properly, and has thrown up here deep beds of excellent marl.

Vol. n. z

338 LETTEES FKOII ITALY.

It is a light yellow hue and easily Avorked. They plough
deep, retaining, however, most exactly the ancient man-
ner. Theii- ploughs have no wheels, and the share is not
moveable. Bowed down behind his oxen the peasant pushes
it dovra. into the earth, and turns up the sou. They
plough over a field as many as five times, and use but little
dung, M'hich they scatter with the hands. After this they
sow the corn. Then they plough together two of the smaller
ridges into one, and so form deep trenches of such a nature
that the rain-water easily runs off the lands into them. ^Mien
the corn is grown up on the ridges, they can also pass along-
these trenches in order to weed it. This way of tilling is a
very sensible one, wherever there is a fear of over-moisture ;
but why it is practised on these rich, open plains I cannot
tmderstand. This remark I just made at Arezzo, where a
glorious plain expands itself. It is impossible to find cleaner
fields anjnvhere, not even a lump of earth is to be seen ; all is
as fine as if it had been sifted. Wheat thrives here most
luxuriantly, and the soil seems to possess all the qualities
requhed by its natm-e. Every second year beans are planted
for the horses, who in this coimtry get no oats. Lupins are
also much cultivated, which at this season are beautifully
green, being ripe in March. The flax, too, is up ; it stands
the winter, and is rendered more durable by frost.

The olive-trees are strange plants. They look verj' much
Hke -v^-illows ; like them also they lose the heart of the wood
and the bark splits. But stiU they have a greater appearance
of durability ; and one sees from the wood, of which the grain
is extremely fine, that it is a slow gi-ower. The foliage, too,
resembles that of the willow, only the leaves on the branches
are thinner. All the hills around Florence are covered with
olive-trees and vines, between which grain is sown, so that
every spot of ground may be made profitable. Near Arezzo
and "forther on, the fields are left more fi-ee. I observed that
they take little care to eradicate the i-s-y which is so injurious
to the olive and the vine, although it would be so easy to
destroy it. There is not a meadow to be seen. It is said
that the Indian com exhausts the soil; since it has been
introduced, agricidtiu-e has suffered in its other crops. I
can well believe it with their scanty manuring.

Yesterday I took leave of my Captain, with a promise
of visiting him at Bologna on my retm-u. He is a true

A PAPAL soldier's IDEAS OF PROTESTAXTS. 339

representative of the majority of his countrjTuen. Here,
however, I would record a peculiarity which persorxally dis-
tinguished him. As I often sat quiet and lost in thought he
once exclaimed " Che pensa? non deve mai pensai- I'uomo,
pensando s invecchia f which being interpreted is as much as to
say, " ^\^lat are you thinking about ; a man ought never to
think ; thinking makes one old." And now for another
apophthegm of his; '■'• Non deve fermarsi I'uomo in una sola
cosa, pei'che allora divien niatto ; hisogna aver mille cose, una
confiisione nella testa;'" in plain English, "A man ought not
to rivet his thoughts exclusively on any one thing, otherwise
he is sure to go mad ; he ought to have in his head a
thousand things, a regular medley."

Certainly the good man coidd not know that the very tiling
that made me so thoughtful was my having my head mazed
. by a regiüai' confusion of things, old and new. The following-
anecdote will serve to elucidate still more clearly the mental
character of an Italian of this class. Having soon discovered
that I was a Protestant, he observed, after some cii'ciuidocu-
tion, that he hoped I would allow him to ask me a few ques-
tions, for he had heard such strange things about us Protest-
ants that he wished to know for a certainty what to think of us.
" May j'ou," he said, "live with a pretty girl without being mar-
ried to her? do your priests allow you to do that? To this I
replied, that oui- priests are prudent folk who take no notice
of such trifles. No doubt if we were to consult them upon
such a matter they would not permit it." "xii'e you not
then obhged to ask them ?" He exclaimed ; " Happy feUows !
as they do not confess you, they do not of course find it out."
Hereupon he gave vent, in many reproaches to his discontent
with his o\vn priests, uttering at the same time loud praises of
our Uberty. " But," he continued, " as regards confession ; how
stands it with you ? We are told that all men, even if they are
not Christians, must confess ; but that inasmuch as many, from
their obduracy, are debarred fi-om the right way, they never-
theless make confession to an old tree ; which indeed is
impious and ridiculous enough, but yet serves to show that,
at least, they recognize the necessity of confession." Upon
this I explained to him our Lutheran notions of confession,
and our practice concerning it. All this appeared to him veiy
easy ; fur he expressed an opinion that it was almost the same
z 2

340 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

as confessing to a tree. After a brief hesitation, lie begged of
me very gravely to inform him correctly on another point.
He had, forsooth, heard from the mouth of his own confessor,
(who, he said, was a truthful man,) that we Protestants are at
liberty to marry our own sisters, which assuredly is a " chose
im pen forte." As I denied this fact, and attempted to give
him a more favom-ablc opinion of ovu- doctrine, he made no
special remark on the latter, which evidently appeared to him
a very ordinary and every-day sort of a thing ; but turned
aside my remarks by a new question. " We have been
assured," he observed, " that Frederick the Great, who has
Avon so many victories, CA'en over the faithful, and filled the
world with his glory — that he whom every one takes to be a
heretic is really a Catholic, and has received a dispensation
from the Pope to keep the fact secret. For while, as is well
known, he never enters any of your churches, he diligently
attends the true worship in a subterranean chapel, though with
a broken heart, because he dare not openly avow the holy
religion, since were he to do so, his Prussians, who are a
brutish people and furious heretics, would no doubt murder him
on the instant ; — and to risk that would do no good to the cause.
On these grounds the Holy Father has given him permission to
worship in secret, in return for which he quietly does as much
as possible to propagate and to favour the true and only saving
faith." I allowed all this to pass, merely observing, as it
was so great a secret no one could be a witness to its truth.
The rest of our conversation was nearly of the same cast, so
that I could not but admire the wise priests who sought to
parry, and to distort whatever was likely to enlighten or vary
the dark outline of their traditional dogmas.

I left Perugia on a glorious morning, and felt the happi-
ness of being once more alone. The site of the city is beau-
tifid, and the view of the sea in the highest degree refreshing.
These scenes are deeply impressed on my memory. At first
the road went downwards, then it entered a cheerful valley,
-enclosed on both sides by distant hills, till at last Assisi lay
•Jbefore us.

Here, as I had learned from Palladio and Volckmann, a
noble temple of Minerva, built in the time of Augustus, was still
standing in perfect repair. At Madonna del Angela, therefore,
i quitted my vetturino, leaving him to proceed by himself to

ASSISI. TEMPLE OF MINERVA. 341

Follgno, and set off in the face of a strong wind for Assisi, for
I longed for a foot journey through a coiuitrj' so solitary for me.
I left on my left the vast mass of chui-ches, piled Babel-wise
one over another, in one of which rest the remains of the holy S.
Francis of Assisi, — with aversion, for I thought to myself, that
the people who assembled in them were mostly of the same
stamp with my captain and travelling companion. Having
asked of a good-looking youth the way to the della Minerva^
he accompanied me to the top of the town, for it lies on the
side of a hill. At last we reached what is properly the old
to\sTi, and behold before my eyes stood the noble edifice, the
fii'st complete memorial of antiquity that I had ever seen. A
modest temple, as befitting so small a town, and yet so perfect,
so well conceived, that anj^where it Avoidd be an ornament.
Moreover, in these matters, how grand were the ancients in
the choice of their sites. The temple stands about half way
up the mountain, where two hills meet on the level place,
which is to this day called the Piazza. This itself sHghtly
rises, and is intersected bj^ the meeting of foui- roads, which
make a somewhat dilated S. Andrew's Cross. In all proba-
bility the houses which are now opposite the temple, and block
up the \äew from it, did not stand there in ancient times. If
they were removed, we should have a south prospect over a
rich and fertile country, and at the same time the temple of
Minerva would be visible fi-om all sides. The line of the
roads is, in all probability, veiy ancient since they follow
the shape and inclination of the hiU, The temple does not
stand in the centre of the flat, but its site is so an-anged that
the traveller catches a fore-shortened view of it soon after
leaving Rome. To give an idea of it, it is necessary to draw
not only the building itself but also its happilj'-chosen site.

Looking at the facjade, I could not sufficiently admii'e the
genius-like identity of design which the architects have here,
as elsewhere, maintained. The order is Corinthian, the girth
of the columns being somewhat above two modiiles. The-
bases of the columns and the plinths seem to rest on pedes-
tale, but it is only an appearance. The socle is cut through
in five places, and at each of these, five steps ascend between
the columns, and bring you to a level, on which properly,
the columns rest, and from which also you enter the temjjle.
The bold idea of cutting through the socle was happily.

342 LETTERS FROJr ITALY.

hazarded ; for, as the temple is situated on a hill, the flight
of steps must otherwise have been carried up to such a
height as would have inconveniently narrowed the area of the
temple. As it is, however, it is impossible to determine how
many steps there originally were ; for, with the exception of
a very few, they are all choked up with dii-t or paved over.
Most reluctantly did I tear myself from the sight, and deter-
mined to call the attention of architects to this noble edifice,
in order that an accurate di-aught of it may be furnished.
For what a sorry thing tradition is, I here again find occasion
to remark. PaUadio, whom I trust in every matter, gives
indeed a sketch of this temple, but certainly he never can
have seen it himself, for he gives it real pedestals above the
area, by which means the columns appeal- disproportionately
high, and the result is a sort of unsightly Palui^Teue mon-
strosity, whereas, in fact, its look is so fuU of repose and
beautv as to satisfy both the eye and the mind. The impression
which the sight of this edifice left upon me is not to be expressed,
and will bring forth imperishable fruits. It was a beautiful
evening, and I now tm-ned to descend the momitain. As I
was proceeding along the Roman road, calm and composed,
suddenly I heard behind me some rough voices in dispute ; I
fancied that it Avas only the Sbirri, whom I had previously
noticed in the town. I, therefore, went on without care, but
stiU v,-ith my ears listening to what they might be saying
behind me. I soon became aware that I was the object of
their remarks. Four men of tliis body (tn-o of whom were
armed with gims.) passed me in the rudest way possible,
muttering to each other, and turning back, after a few
steps, suddenly smTounded me. They demanded my name,
and what I was doing there. I said that I was a stranger,
and had travelled on foot to Assisi, while my vetturino had
gone on to Foligno. It appeared to them very improbable,
that any one should pay for a can-iage and yet travel by foot.
Thqy asked me if I had been visiting the " Gran Convento."
I answered " no;" but assm-ed them that I knew the build-
ing of old, but being an architect, my chief object this time
was simplv to gain a sight of the Maria della Minerva, which
they must be aware was an architectural model. This they
conid not contradict, but seemed to take it very ill that I had
not paid a visit to the Saint, and avowed theh- suspicion that

ASSISI — AN ADTENTUKK. 343

inv business in fact "was to smuggle contraband goods. I
pointed out to them how ridiculous it was that a man vrho
walked openly through the streets alone, and without packs
and with empty pockets, shoidd be taken for a contrabandist.
However, upon this I oiFered to return to the to^^^l with
them, and to go before the Podesta, and by showing my papers
prove to him that I was an honest traveler. Upon this they
muttered together for a while, and then expressed their opinion
that it was unnecessary, and, as I behaved throughout with
coolness and gravity, they at last left me, and turned tov,"ards
the town. I looked after them. As these rude chmls moved
on in the foreground, behind them the beautifid temple of
Minerva once more caught my eye, to soothe and console me
with its sight. I tmiied then to the left to look at the hea^y
cathedral of S. Francisco, and was about to continue my way,
Avhen one of the imarmed Sbin-i, separating himself from the
rest, came up to me in a quiet and friendly maimer. Saluting
me, he said, Signior Stranger, you ought at least to give me
something to di'ink your health, for I assure you, that from the
very first I took you to be an honovu-able man, and loudly
maintained this opinion in opposition to my comrades. They,
however, are hot-headed and over-hasty fellows, and have
no knowledge of the world. You yom-self must have observed,
that I was the first to allow the force of, and to assent to,
yom' remarks. I praised him on this score, and urged him to
protect all honoui-able strangers, who might henceforward come
to Assisi for the sake cither of religion or of art, and especially
all architects, who might wish to do honom- to the toA^Ti, by
measm-ing, and sketching the temple of Minerva, since a
coiTect di'awing or engiin-ing of it had never yet been taken.
If he were to accompany them, they woidd, I assiu-ed him,
give him substantial proofs of their gratitude, and with these
words I poured some silver into his hand, which, as exceed-
ing his expectation, delighted him above measure. He beg-
ged me to pay a second visit to the tOAATi. remarldng that I
ought not on any account to miss the festival of the Saint,
on which I might with the greatest safety delight and amuse
myself. Indeed if, being a good-looking fellow, I should -v^äsh
to be introduced to the fair sex, he assured me that the
prettiest and most respectable ladies woiUd -vA-illingly receive
me or any stranger, upon his recommendation. He took his

344 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

leave, promisinp^ to remember me at vespers before the tomb
of the Saint, and to offer up a prayer for my safety throughout
my travels. Upon this we parted, and most delighted was I
to be again alone with nature and myself. The road to Foligno
was one of the most beautiful and agreeable Avalks that I ever
took. For four full hoiu-s I walked along the side of a
mountain, having on my left a richly cultivated valley.

It is but sorry travelling with a retturino, it is always best to
follow at one's ease on foot. In this Avay had I travelled from
Fcrrara to this place. As regards the arts and mechanical in-
vention, on which however the ease and comforts of life mainly
depend, Italy, so highly favoured by nature, is very far
behind all other countries. The carriage of the vettiirino,
which is still called sedia, or seat, certainly took its origin
from the ancient litters di-awn by mules, in which females
and aged persons, or the highest dignitaries, used to be car-
ried about. Instead of the hinder mule, on whose yoke the
shafts used to rest, two wheels have been placed beneath the
carriage, and no further improvement has been thought of.
In this way one is still jolted along, just as they were centuries
ago ; it is the same with their houses and everything else.

If one wishes to see realised the poetic idea of men in pri-
meval times, spending most of their lives beneath the open
heaven, and only occasionally, when compelled by necessity,
retiring for shelter into the caves, one must visit the houses
hereabouts, especially those in the rural districts, which are
quite in the style and fashion of caves. Such an incredible
absence of care do the Italians evince, in order not to grow
old by tliinking. With unheard of frivolity, they neglect to
make any preparation for the long nights of winter, and in
consequence, for a considerable portion of the year, suffer
like dogs. Here, in Foligno, in the midst of a perfectly
Homeric household, the whole family being gathered together
in a large hall, round a fire on the hearth, with plenty of run-
ning backwards and forwards and of scolding and shoviting,
while supper is going on at a long table like that in the pictm-e
of the Wedding Feast at Cana, I seize an opportunity of wTit-
ing this, as one of the family has ordered an inkstand to be
brought me, — a luxury which, judging from other circum-
stances, I did not look for. These pages, however, tell too plainly
of the cold and of the inconvenience of my writing table.

TEEXI. 345

In fact I am now made only too sensible of the rashness of
travelling in this country without a servant, and without pro-
viding oneself well with every necessary. What with the
ever-changing cuiTency, the vetturini, the extortion, the
wretched inns, one who, like myself, is travelling alone,
for the first time in this country, hoping to find uninter-
rupted plcasui'e, ■will be sure to find himself miserably
disappointed every day. However, I wished to see the
country at any cost, and even if I must be dragged to
Rome on Ixion's wheel, I shall not complain.

Tenii, Oct, 27, 1786.
Evening.

Again sitting in a " cave," which only a year before suf-
fered from an earthquake. ITie little town lies in the midst
of a rich country, (for taking a cu-cuit romid the city
I explored it with pleasure,) at the beginning of a beautiful
plain which Hes between two ridges of lime-stone hills.
Temi, like Bologna, is situated at the foot of the mountain
range.

Almost ever since the papal ofiicer left me I have had a
priest for my companion. The latter appears better contented
with his profession than the soldier, and is ready to enlighten
me, whom he veiy soon saw to be an heretic, by answering
any question I might put to him concerning the ritual and
other matters of his chiu-ch. By thus mixing continually
with new characters I thoroughly obtain my object. It is
absolutely necessarj- to hear the people talking together, if
you would fonn a true and lively image of the whole country.
The Italians are in the strangest manner possible rivals and
adversai'ies of each other; everyone is strongly enthusiastic
in the praise of his own town and state ; they cannot bear
with one another, and even in the same city the different
ranks nourish perpetual feuds, and all this with a profomidly
"vivacious and most obvious passionateness, so that while they
expose one another's pretensions, they keep up an amusing
comedy all day long ; and j'et they come to an imder-
standing again together, and seem quite aware how impos-
sible it is for a stranger to enter into their ways and thoughts.

I ascended to Spoleto and went along the aqueduct, which
ser\-es also for a bridge from one mountain to another. The ten

o46 XETTEES FROM ITALY.

brick arches ■which span the valley, have qmetly stood there
thi-Qugh centuries, and the water still flows into Spoleto, and
reaches its remotest quarters. This is the third great work of
the ancients that I have seen, and still the same «grandeur of
conception. A second nature made to work for social objects,
— such was their architectm-e ; and so arose the amphitheatre,
the temple, and the aqueduct. Now at last I can miderstand
the justice of my hatred for all arbitrary caprices, as, for
instance, the winter casts on white stone — a nothing; about
nothing — a monstrous piece of confectionary' ornament — and
so also with a thousand other things. But all that is now
dead : for whatever does not possess a true intrmsic vitality
cannot live long, and can neither be nor ever become great.

"\Miat entertainment and insti'uction have I not had cause
to be thankfid for dm-ing these eight last weeks, but in fact
it has also cost me some trouble. I kept my eyes continually
open, and strove to stamp deep on my mind the images of all
I saw : that was all — judge of them I coidd not, even if it
had been in my power.

San Croceßsso, a singular chapel on the road side, did not
look, to my mind, like the remains of a temple which had
once stood on the same site ; it was evident that columns,
pillars, and pediments had been found, and incongi-uously
put together, not stupidly but madly. It does not admit of
description ; however, there is somewhere or other an en-
graving of it.

And so it may seem strange to some that we shoiüd go on
troubling om*selves to acquire an idea of antiquity, although
we have nothing before us but ruins, out of which we must
first painfully reconstruct the verj' thing we wish to form an
idea of.

With what is called " classical ground'' the case stands
rather diiferent. Here, if only we do not go to work fanci-
fully, but take the ground really as it is, then we shall have
the decisive arena Avhich moidded more or less the greatest of
events. Accordingly I have hitherto actively employed my
geological and agricultural eye to the suppressing of fancy
and sensibility, in order to gain for myself an unbiassed and
distinct notion of the locality. By such means history fixes
itself on oiu' minds with a marvellous vividness, and the etfect
is utterly inconceivable by another. It is something of this

. KOAD-SIDE FANTASIES. 347

sort that makes me feel so yeiy gi-eat a desire to read Tacitus
in Rome.

I must not, however, forget the weather. As I descended
the Apennines from Bologna the clouds gradually retired
towards the north, afterwards they changed their course and
moved towai'ds Lake Trasimene. Here they continued to
hang, though perhaps they may have moved a little flirthor
southward. Instead, therefore, of the great plain of the Po,
sending as it does, dm-ing the simimer, all its clouds to the
Tyrolese mountains, it now sends a part of them towards the
Apennines, — from thence perhaps comes the rainy season.

They are now beginning to gather the olives. It is done
here with the hand, in other places they are beat down with
sticks. If winter comes on before all are gathered, the rest
are allowed to remain on the trees tUl spring. Yesterday I
noticed, in a veiy sti'ong soil, the largest and oldest trees
I have ever yet seen.

The favour of the Muses, like that of the dasmons, is not
always shown us in a suitable moment. Yesterday I felt
inspfred to undertake a work which at present woiild be ill-
timed. Approaching nearer and nearer to the centre of
Romanism, smToimded by Roman Catholics, boxed up with a
priest in a sedan, and striving anxiously to observe and to
study without prejudice true nature and noble art, I have
aiTived at a vi\4d conviction that aU traces of original
Chi'istianity are extinct here. Indeed, while I tried to
bring it before my mind in its purity, as we see it recorded
in the Acts of the Apostles, I could not help shuddering
to think of the shapeless, not to say grotesque, mass of
Heathenism which heaAoly overHes its benign beginnings.
Accordingly the "Wandering Jew' again occnn'ed to me
as having been a witness of all this wonderful develop-
ment and envelopment, and as having lived to experience so
strange a state of things, that Clu-ist himself, when He shall
come a second time to gather in His har\-est, will be in
danger of being crucified a second time. The Legend,
" Venio itermn crucißgi'' was to serve me as the material of
this catastrophe.

Dreams of this kind floated before me ; for out of impa-
tience to get onwards, I iised to sleep in my clothes ; and I
know of nothing more beautiful than to wake before dawTi,

348 LETTERS FEOM ITALY.

and between sleeping and Avaking, to seat oneself in one's
ear, and travel on to meet the day.

Citta Castellana, October 2^, 1786.

I will not faü you this last evening. It is not yet eight
o'clock, and all ai-e ah-eady in bed ; so I can for a good " last
time" think over what is gone by, and revel in the anticipa-
tion of what is so shortly to come. This has been through-
out a bright and glorious day ; the morning very cold, the
day clear and warm, the evening somewhat Avindy, but very
beautiful.

It was very late when we set off from Temi, and we
reached Xarni before day, and so I did not see the bridge.
Valleys and lowlands; — now near, now distant prospects ; — a
rich country, but aU of limestone, and not a trace of any
other formation.

Otricoli lies on an alluvial gravel-hill, thi-own up by one of
the ancient inundations ; it is built of lava brought from the
other side of the river.

As soon as one is over the bridge one finds oneself in a
volcanic region, either of real lava, or of the native rock,
changed by the heat and by fusion. You ascend a moun-
tain, which you might set down at once for gray lava. It
contains many white crystals of the shape of garnets. The
causeway from the heights to the Citta CasteUana is likewise
composed of this stone, now worn extremely smooth. The
cit}- is built on a bed of volcanic tufa, in which I thought I
could discover ashes, pumice-stoue, and pieces of lava. The
\iew from the castle is extremely beautiful. Soracte stands
out and alone in the prospect most pictm-esquely. It is pro-
bably a limestone mountain of the same fonnation as the
Apennines. The volcanic region is far lower than the Apen-
nines, and it is only the streams tearing thi'ough it, that have
formed out of it hills and rocks, which, with their over-
hanging ledges, and other mai-ked features of the landscape,
furnish most glorious objects for the painter.

To-morrow evening and I shall be in Rome. Even yet I
can scarcely believe it possible ; and if this wish is fulfilled^
what shall I wish for afterwards ? I know not, except it be
that I may safely stand in my little pheasant-loaded canoe,
and may find all my friends well, happy, and unchanged.

ROME.

Rome, November 1, 1786,
At last I can speak out, and greet my friends with good
humour. May they pardon my secrecy, and what has been,
as it were, a subteiTanean journey hither. For scarcely to
myself did I venture to say whither I was hurrying — even on
the road I often had my fears, and it was only as I passed
imder the Porta del Popolo that I felt certain of reaching
Rome.

And now let me also say that a thousand times — aye, at
aU times, do I think of you, in the neighbom-hood of these
objects which I never believed I should visit alone. It was only
when I saw everj* one bound body and soul to the north,
and all longing for those countries utterly extinct among
them ; that I resolved to undertake the long solitary
journey, and to seek that centre towards which I was
attracted by an irresistible impulse. Indeed for the few last
years it had become with me a kind of disease, which could
only be cured by the sight and presence of the absent object.
Now, at length I may ventm^e to confess the truth : it reached
at last such a height, that I durst not look at a Latin book, or
even an engraving of Italian scenerj*. The craving to see this
coimtrj' was over ripe. Now, it is satisfied; friends and
coimtry have once more become right dear to me, and the
return to them is a wished for object — nay, the more
ardently desired, the more firmly I feel convinced that I
bring with me too many treasures for personal enjoyment
or private use, but such as tlu'ough life may serve others,
as well as myself, for edification and guidance.

Borne, November 1, 1786.
Well, at last I am anived in this great capital of the
world. If fifteen vears ago I could have seen it in good

350 XETTEKS FKOM ITAXT.

company, with a well informed guide, I shoidd have thought
myself A-ery fortimate. But as it was to be that I should thus
see it alone, and with my own eyes, it is well that this joy
has foUen to my lot so late in life.

Over the mountains of the TjtoI I have as good as flown.
Verona, Vicenza, Padua, and Venice I have carefully
looked at ; hastily glanced at Ferrara, Cento, Bologna,
and scarcely seen Florence at all. My anxiety to reach
Rome was so great, and it so grew -Rdth me every moment,
that to think of stopping anywhere was quite out of the
question; even in Florence, I only stayed three hoiu-s.
Now 1 am here at my ease, and as it would seem, shall
be ti'anquiUized for my whole life ; for we may almost say
that a new Hfe begins Avhen a man once sees with his own
eyes all that before he has but partially heard or read of.
All the dreams of my youth 1 now behold realized before
me ; the subjects of the first engravings I ever remember
seeing (several views of Rome Avere hung up in an ante-
room of my father's house) stand bodily before my sight,
and all that I had long been acquainted with thi'ough paint-
ings or drawmgs, engTavings, or wood-cuts, plaister- casts,
and cork models are here collectively presented to my
eye. VTierever I go I find some old acquaintance in this new
world ; it is all just as I had thought it, and yet all is new ;
and just the same might I remark of my own observations
and my own ideas. I have not gained any new thoughts,
but the older ones have become so defined, so vivid, and so
coherent, that they may almost pass for new ones.

"When Pygmalion's EHsa, which he had shaped entirely in
accordance with his Avashes, and had given to it as much of
truth and nature as an artist can, moved at last towards him,
and said, " I am! " — how different was the living form from
the chiselled stone.

In a moral sense, too, how salutary is it for me to live
awhile among a wholly sensual people, of whom so much has
been said and written, and of whom evciy stranger judges
according to the standard he brings with him. I can excuse
every one who blames and reproaches them ; they stand too
fiir apart from us, and for a stranger to associate with them is
difficult and expensive.

HOME — TESTIVAI, OF ALL SOULS. 351

Rome, November 3, 1786.

One of the cliief motives wHch I had for hiirryin«? to Kome
was the Festival of All Saints ; for I thought -n-ithin myself,
if Rome pays so much honour to a single saint, what will she
not show to them all? But I was under a mistake. The
Koman Church has never been veiy fond of celebrating with
remarkable pomp any common festival ; and so she leaves
ever}' order to celebrate in silence the especial memory of its
own pati'on, — for the name Festival, and the day esi^eciallv set
apart to each saint is properly the occasion when each receives
his highest commemoration.

Yesterday, however, which was the Festival of All Souls,
things went better with me. This commemoration is kept
by the Pope in his private chapel on the Quirinal. I has-
tened with Tischbein to the Monte C'avallo. The piazza
before the palace has something altogether singular — so irre-
gular is it, and yet so grand and so beautiful! I now cast
eyes upon the Colossuses ! neither eye nor mind was large
enough to take them in. Ascending a broad flight of steps,
we followed the crowd through a splendid and spacious hall.
In this ante-chamber, directly opposite to the chapel, and in
sight of the numerous apartments, one feels somewhat
strange to find oneself beneath the same roof with the Vicar
of Christ.

The office had begun ; Pope and Cardinals were already in
the church. The holy father, of a highly handsome and
dignified form, the cardinals of different ages and figures ;
I was seized with a strange longing desü-e that the head of
the Church might open his golden mouth, and speaking with
rapture of the ineffable bliss of the happy soid. set us all too in
a rapture. But as I only saw him moving backwards and for-
wards before the altar, and tm-uing himself now to this side
and now to that, and only muttering to himself, and con-
ducting himself just like a common parish priest, then the
original sin of Protestantism re^•ived within me, and the well-
known and ordinary mass for the dead had no charms for me.
For most assuredly Christ Flimself — He who in his youthful
days, and even as a chud excited men's vronder by His oral
exposition of Scripture, did never thus teach and work in
silence ; but as we learn from the Gospels, He was ever
ready to utter His wise and spiiitual words, WTiat, I asked

552 LETTEKS niOM ITALT.

myself, would He say. where He to come in among us, and
see His image on earth thus mumbling, and sailing backwards
and forwards: The " J'enio iterum crucißgi" again crossed
my mind, and I nudged my companion to come out into the
freer air of the vaulted and painted hall.

Here we found a crowd of persons attentively observing
the rich paintings ; for the Festival of All Souls is also the
holyday of all the artists in Rome. Not only the chapel, but
the whole palace also, with all its rooms, is for many hours
on this dav open and free to every one, no fees being requh'ed,
and the visitors not being Liable to be hm-ried on by the
chamberlain.

The paintings on the walls engaged my attention, and I
now formed a new acquaintance with some excellent artists,
whose very names had hitherto been almost unknown to me,
— for instance, I now for the first time learned to appreciate
and to love the cheerful Carlo Maratti.

But chiefly welcome to me were the masterpieces of the
artists, of whose style and manner I already had some
impression. I saw with amazement the wonderful PetronOla
of Giiercino, which was formerly in St. Peter's, where a mosaic
copy now stands in the place of the original. The body of
the Saint is lifted out of the grave, and the same person, just
reanimated, is being received into the heights of heaven by a
celestial youth, ^\^latever may be alleged against this double
action, the picture is invaluable.

Still more struck was I with a picture of Titian's : it
throws into the shade aU I have hitherto seen. Whether
my eye is more practised, or whether it is really the most
excellent, I cannot determine. An immense mass-robe, stift
with embroiderj' and gold-embossed figui'es, envelops the
dignified frame of a bishop. With a massive pastoral stair
in his left hand, he is gazing with a look of rapture towards
heaven, while he holds in his right a book out of which he
seems to have imbibed the divine enthusiasm with which
he is inspired. Behind him a beautifid maiden, holding a
palm branch in her hand, and, full of afiectionate sjTnpathy,
is looking over his shoulder into the open book. A grave old
man on the right stands quite close to the book, but appears
to pay no attention to it ; the key in his hand, suggests the
pcssibility of his familiar acquaintance with its contents.

ROME TITIAX — GUIDO. 353

Over against this group a naked, well-made youth, wounded
with an aiTOW, and in chains, is looking straight before him
with a slight expression of resignation in his coimtenance. In
the intermediate space stand two monks, bearing a cross and
lilies, and devoutly looking up to heaven. Then in the
clear upper space is a semi-circular wall, which encloses them
all ; above moves a Madonna in highest glory, sympathising
with all that passes below. The young sprightly child on her
bosom, with a radiant countenance, is holding out a crown,
and seems indeed on the point of casting it doAvn. On
both sides angels are floating by, who hold in their hands
cro^^^lS in abimdance. High above all the figures, and even
the triple-raj-ed aureola, soars the celestial dove, as at once
the centre and finish of the whole gi-oup.

We said to ourselves, " Some ancient holy legend must have
furnished the subject of this picture, in order that these various
and ill-assorted personages should have been brought toge-
ther so artistically and so significantly. We ask not, how-
ever, why and wherefore, — we take it all for granted, and
only wonder at the inestimable piece of art. Less unin-
telligible, but stul mysterious, is a fresco of Guido s in this
chapel. A virgin, in childish beauty, loveliness, and inno-
cence, is seated, and quietly sewing : two angels stand by her
side, waiting to do her ser%"ice at the slightest bidding.
Youthfid innocence and industrj', — the beautiful pictm-e
seems to tell us, — are guarded and honoured by the heavenly
beings. No legend is wanting here ; no stoiy needed to fui*-
nish an explanation.

Now, however, to cool a little my artistic enthusiam, a
merry incident occurred. I observed that several of the
German artists, who came up to Tischbein as an old acquaint-
ance, after staring at me, went their ways agam. At last
one, who had most recently been observing my person, came
up to me again, and said, "We have had a good joke ; the
report that you were in Rome had spread among us, and the
attention of us artists was called to the one unknoAvn
stranger. Now, there was one of our body who used for a
long time to assert that he had met you — nay, he asseverated
he had lived on very friendly terms with you, — a fact which
we were not so ready to believe. However, we have just
called upon him to look at you, and solve oui- doubts. He

Vol. H. 2 a

354 LETTERS FK0:M ITALY.

at once stoutly denied that it was you, and said that in the
stranger there was not a trace of your person or mien." So,
then, at least our incognito is for the moment secui-e, and
will afford us something hereafter to laugh at.

I now mixed at my ease with the troop of artists, and
asked them who were the painters of several pictm*es whose
style of art was unknown to me. At last I was particularly
struck by a picture representing St. George killing the
dragon, and setting free the virgin ; no one could tell me
whose it was. Upon tliis a little modest man, avIio \v^ to
this time had not opened his mouth, came forward and told
me it was Pordenone's, the Venetian painter ; and that it
was one of the best of his paintings, and displayed all his
merits. I was now well able to account for my liking for it :
the picture pleased me, because I possessed some knowledge
of the Venetian school, and was better able to appreciate the
excellencies of its best masters.

The artist, my informant, was Heim-ich Meyer, a Swiss,
who for some years had been studying at Rome with a
friend of the name of E,olla, and Avho had taken excellent
drawings in Spain of antique busts, and was well read in the
history of art.

Rome, November 7, 1786.

I have now been here seven days, and by degi-ees have
formed in my mind a general idea of the city. We go dili-
gently backwards and forwards. While I am thus making my-
self acquainted with the plan of old and new Rome, viewing
the ruins and the buildings, visiting this and that villa, the
grandest and most remarkable objects are slowly and lei-
sm-ely contemplated. I do but keep my eyes open and see,
and then go and come again, for it is only in Rome one can
duly pi'cpare oneself for Rome.

It must, in truth, be confessed, that it is a sad and melan-
choly business to prick and track out ancient Rome in new
Rome ; however, it must be done, and we may hope at
least for an incalculable gratification. We meet with traces
both of majesty and of rvdn, which alike surpass all concep-
tion ; what the barbarians spared, the builders of new Rome
made havoc of.

ROME — ITS PRESENT ASPECT. 355

\Mien one thus beholds au object two thousand years old and
more, but so manifoldly and thoroughly altered by the changes
of time, but, sees nevertheless, the same soil, the same moim-
taius, and often indeed the same walls and columns, one be-
comes, as it were, a contemporary of the great counsels of
Fortune, and thus it becomes difficidt for the observer to
ti'ace from the beginning Rome following Rome, and not
only new Rome succeeding to the old, but also the several
epochs of both old and new in succession. I endeavour, first
of all, to grope my way alone thi'ough the obscurer parts, for
this is the only plan by which one can hope fully and com-
pletely to perfect by the excellent introductory works which
have been written from the fifteenth century to the present
day. The first artists and scholars have occupied their whole
lives with these objects.

And this vastness has a strangely tranquillizing efiect upon
you in Rome, while you pass from place to place, in order to
■\-isit the most remarkable objects. In other places one has to
search for what is important ; here one is oppressed, and
borne dowTi ^vith numberless phenomena. Wherever one
goes and casts a look around, the eye is at once struck with
some landscape, — forms of every kind and style ; palaces and
mins, gardens and statuary, distant views of villas, cottages
and stables, triumphal arches and columns, often crowd-
ing so close together, that they might all be sketched on a
single sheet of paper. He ought to have a hundi-ed hands to
write, for what can a single pen do here ; and, besides, by
the evening one is quite weary and exhausted with the day's
seeing; and admirins:.

Rome, November 7, 1786.
Pardon me, my friends, if for the future you find me rather
chary of my words. On one"s travels one usually rakes
together aU that we meet on one"s way ; every day brings
something new, and one then hastens to think upon and to
judge of it. Here, however, we come into a very great school
indeed, where every day says so much, that we cannot ven-
tm-e to say anything of the day itself. Indeed, people would
do weU if, tarrying here for years together, they observed
awhile a Pythagorean silence.

353 LETTERS FROM ITALY,

Nov. 1786.
I am quite well. The weather, as the Romans say, is
brutto. The south wind, the scirocco, is blo'ndng, and brings
with it every day more or less of rain ; for my part, I do not
find the weather disagreeable'; such as it is, it is warmer than
the rainy days of summer are with us.

Rome, November 7, 1786.

The more I become acquainted with Tischbcin's talents, as
well as his principles and "siews of art, the higher I appre-
ciate and value them. He has laid before me his drawings
and sketches ; they have great merit, and are full of high
promise. His visit to Bodmer led him to fix his thoughts
on the infancy of the human race, when man found him-
self standing on the earth, and had to solve the pro-
blem, how he must best fulfil his destiny as the Lord of
Creation.

As a suggestive introduction to a series of illustrations of
this subject, he has attempted sjTnbolically to vindicate the
high antiquity of the world. Mountains overgrown with
noble forests, — ra'S'ines worn out by Avatercourses, — burnt out
volcanoes still faintly smoking. In the foreground the
mighty stock of a patriarchal oak still remains in the ground,
on whose half-bared roots a deer is trying the strength of his
horns, — a conception as fine as it is beautifully executed.

In another most remarkable piece he has painted man
j'oking the horse, and by his superior skill, if not strength,
bringing all the other creatures of the earth, the air, and the
water under his dominion. The composition is of an extra-
ordinary beauty ; when finished in oils it cannot fail of pro-
ducing a great efiect. A drawing of it must, at any cost, be
secured for Weimar. When this is finished, he purposes to
paint an assembly of old men, aged and experienced in coun-
cil,— in which he intends to introduce the portraits of living
personages. At present, however, he is sketching away with
the greatest enthusiasm on a battle-piece. Two bodies of
cavalry are fighting with equal courage and resolution ; be-
tween them yawns an awful chasm, which but few horses
vwould attempt to clear. The arts of defensive warfare are
useless here. A wild resolve, a bold attack, a successful leap, or

HOME EAFFAELE. 357

else to be hurled in the abyss below I This picture will afford
him au opportunity to display, in a very- striking manner,
the knowledge ■which he possesses of horses, and of their
make and movements.

Now it is Tischbein s wish to have these sketches, and a
series of others to follow, or to be intercalated between
them, connected together by a poem, which may serve to
explain the drawings, and, by giving them a definite context,
may lend to them both a body and a charm.

The idea is beautiful, only the artist and the poet must be
many years together, in order to carry out and to execute
such a work.

Rome, November 7, 1786.
The " Loggie''' of Raffaele, and the great pictm-es of the
" School of Athens," &c., I have now seen for the first and
only time ; so that for me to judge of them at present is like
a man having to make out and to judge of Homer from some
half-obliterated and much-injm-ed manuscript. The gratifica-
tion of the first impression is incomplete ; it is only when they
have been carefully studied and examined, one by one, that
the enjojTnent becomes perfect. The best preserved are the
paintings on the ceilings of the Loggte. They are as fresh as
if painted yesterday The subjects are s;sTnbolical. Very few,
however, are by Raffaele's own hand, but they are excellently
executed, after his designs and imder his eye.

Rome, Noveviher 7, 1786.
Many a time, in years past, did I entertain the strange
whim, as ardently to wish that I might one day be taken to •
Italy by some well-educated man, — by some Englishman,
well learned in art and in history ; and now it has all been
brought about much better than I could have anticipated.
Tischbein has long lived here ; he is a sincere friend to me,
and during his stay here always cherished the wish of being
able one day to show Rome to me. Oui* intimacy is old by
letter though new by presence, ^^^lere could I meet with a
worthier guide ? Ajid if my time is limited, I will at least
learn and enjoy as much as possib e ; and yet. notwithstanding,
I clearly foresee, that when I leave Rome I shall wish that I
was coming to it.

358 LETTERS EEOM ITALY.

Rome, Novemher 8, 1786.
'!slx strange, and perhaps wliimsical, incognito proves useful
to me in many ways that I never should have thought of.
As every one thinks himself in dutj' bound to ignore who I
am, and consequently never ventures to speak to me of my-
self and my works, they have no alternative left them but
to speak of themselves, or of the matters in which they are
most interested, and in this way I become circumstantially
informed of the occupations of each, and of ever^-thing
remarkable that is either taken in hand or produced. Hofrath
Reiffenstein good-naturedly humom-s this whim of mine ; as,
however, for special reasons, he could not bear the name
which I had assmned. he immediately made a Baron of me,
and I am now called the " Baron gegen Rondanini über" (the
Baron who lives opposite to the Palace Rondanini). This
designation is sufficiently precise, especially as the ItaHans
are accustomed to speak of people either by their Christian
names, or else by some nickname, Enough ; I have gained
mv object: and I escape the dreadftd annoyance of having
to give to everybody an account of myself and my works.

Rome, IVovember 9, 1786.
I frequently stand still a moment to sm-vey, as it were, the
heights I have akeady won. "With much delight I look back
to Venice, that grand creation that sprang out of the bosom
of the sea, like Minen'a out of the head of Jupiter. In
Rome, the Rotunda, both by its exterior and interior, has
moved me to offer a wiUing homage to its magnificence. In
S. Peter" s I learned to imderstand how art, no less than
nature, annihilates the artificial measures and dimensions of
man. And in the same way the Apollo Belvidere also has
again drawn me out of reality. For as even the most correct
cngi-avings furnish no adequate idea of these buildings, so the
case is the same with respect to the marble original of this
statue, as compared with the plaister models of it, which,
however, I formerly used to look upon as beautiful.

Rome, November 10, 1786.
Here I am now living with a cxlmness and tranquillity to
which I have for a long while been a stranger. My practice

HOME — THE GROTTO OF EGEHIA, ScC. 359

to see and take all things as they are. my fidelity in letting
the eve be my Hght, my perfect renunciation of all preten-
sion, have again come to my aid, and make me calmly, but
most intensely, happy. Every day has its fresh remarkable ob-
ject,— every day its new grand unequalled paintings, and a
whole which a man may long think of, and dream of, but
■which with aU his power of imagination he can never reach.

Yesterday I was at the Pyramid of Cestius, and in the
evening on the Palatine, on the top of which are the ruins of
the palace of the Caesars, which stand there like walls of
rock. Of all this, however, no idea can be conveyed! In
truth, there is nothing little here ; although, indeed, occa-
sionaUv something to find fault vrith, — something more or less
absurd in taste, and yet even this partakes of the universal
gi'andeur of aU around.

Allien, however, I return to myself, as every one so
readily does on all occasions, I discover within a feeling
which does not infinitely delight me— one, indeed, which I
may even express, "^^^loever here looks around \yiih. eax-
nestness, and has eyes to see, must become in a measui'e
solid — he cannot but apprehend an idea of solidity Avith a
Ti^'idness which is nowhere else possible.

The mind becomes, as it were, primed with capacity, with
an earnestness without severity, and with a definiteness of
character with joy. With me, at least, it seems as if I had
never before so rightly estimated the things of the world as I
do here : I rejoice when I think of the blessed cfiects of all
this on the whole of my future being. And let me jumble
together the things as I may, order vnIL somehow come into
them. I am not here to enjoy myself after my own fashion,
but to busy myself with the great objects aroimd, to learn,
and to improve myself, ere I am forty years old.

Home, Ä'ov. 11, 1786,
Yesterday I visited the nymph Egeria. and then the Hippo-
drome of Caracalla, the ruined tombs along the Via Appia,
and the tomb of MeteUa. which is the first to give one a true
idea of what solid masonry reaUy is. These men worked for
eternity — all causes of decay were calculated, except the
rage of the spoiler, which nothing can resist. Right heai'tily

360 XETTERS FROM ITALY.

did I wish you had been there. The remains of the principal
aqueduct are higldy venerable. How beautifid and grand
a design, to supply a whole people with water by so vast
a structure! In the evening we came upon the Coliseum,
when it was already twilight. When one looks at it, all else
seems little; the edifice is so vast, that one cannot hold the
image of it in one's soul — in memory we think it smaller,
and then return to it again to find it eveiy time greater
than before.

Frascati, Nov. 15.

The company are all in bed, and I am writing with Indian
ink which they use for drawing. We have had two beautiful
days without rain, warm and genial sunshine, so that summer
is scarcely missed. The country around is very pleasant ; the
village lies on the side of a hill, or rather of a mountain, and
at every step the draughtsman comes upon the most glorious
objects. The prospect is unbounded — Rome lies before you,
and beyond it, on the right, is the sea, the mountains of
Tivoli, and so on. In this delightful region country houses
are built expressly for pleasure, and as the ancient Romans
had here their villas, so for centuries past their rich and
haughty successors have planted comitry residences on all the
loveliest spots. For two days we have been wandering about
here, and almost every step has brought us upon something
new and attractive.

And yet it is hard to say whether the evenings have not
passed still more agreeably than the days. As soon as our
stately hostess has placed on the round table the bronzed lamp
with its three wicks, and wished us felicissime notte, we all
form a circle round it, and the views are produced which have
been drawn and sketched during the day ; their merits are
discussed, opinions are taken whether the objects might or
not have been taken more favourably, whether their true char-
acters have been caught, and whether all requisitions of a like
general nature, which may justly be looked for in a first
sketch, have been fulfilled.

Hofi-ath Reiffenstein, by his judgment and authority, con-
trives to give order to, and to conduct these sittings. But
the merit of this delightful arrangement is due to Philipp

ROME FAKXESE GAXLERY, &CC. 361

Hackert, who has a most excellent taste both in drawing and
finishing views from nature. Artists and dilettanti, men
and women, old and young — he woidd let no one rest, but
stimulated ever}' one to make the attempt at any rate according
to their gifts and powers, and led the way with his own good
example. The little society thus collected, and held together,
Hofrath Reifienstein has, after the dcpartiu-e of his friend,
faithfidly kept up, and we all feel a laudable desire to
awake in every one an active participation. The peculiar
turn and character of each member of the societj' is thus
shown iu a most agreeable way. For instance, Tischbein, as
an historical painter, looks upon scenery with very different
eyes from the landscape painter ; he sees significant gi-oups,
and other graceful speaking objects, where another can see
nothing, and so he happily contrives to catch up many a
naive-trait of humanity, — it may be in children, peasants,
mendicants, or other such beings of nature, or even in animals,
which with a few characteristic touches, he skilfully manages
to pourtray, and thereby contributes much new and agreeable
matter for our discussions.

^Vhen conversation is exhausted, at Hackert's suggestion,
perhaps, some one reads aloud Sulzer's Theory ; for although
fi'om a high point of -view it is impossible to rest contented
with this work, nevertheless, as some one observed, it is so far
satisfactoiy as it is calculated to exercise a favourable in-
fluence on minds less higldv cultivated.

Rome, Nov. 17, 1786.

We are back again ! During the night we have had an
awfid torrent of rain, with thvmder and lightning ; it is still
raining, but ^vithal very warm.

As regards myself, however, it is only with few words that
I can indicate the happiness of this day. I have seen the
fi-escoes of Domenichino in Andrea della Volle, and also the
Famese Gallerj' of Caraccio's. Too much, forsooth, for
months — what, then, for a single day!

Rome, Nov. 18, 1786.
It is again beautifid weather, a bright genial warm day.
I saw in the Farnesi?ie palace the stori^ of Psyche, colom'ed

362 LETTERS FEOJI ITALY.

copies of whicli have so long adorned my room, and then at
S. Peter's, in Moutorio, the Transfigm-ation by Raffaelle —
all well known paintings — ^like friends whicli one has made
in the distance by means of letters, and which for the first
time one sees flice to face. To live with them, however, is
something quite different ; every ti'ue relation and false
relation becomes immediately evident.

Moreover, in every spot and comer glorious things are to
be met with, of which less has been said, and which have not
been scattered over the world by engra^•ings and copies. Of
these I shall bring away with me many a di-awing from the
hands of young but excellent artists.

JRome, Ä'^ov. 18, 1786.

The fact that I long maintained a con-espondence with
Tischbein, and was consequently on the best terms possible
with him, and that even when I had no hope of ever visiting
Italy, I had communicated to him my washes, has made oui*
meeting most profitable and delightful ; he has been always
thinking of me, even providing for my M-ants. With the
varieties of stone, of which all the great edifices, M-hether old
or new are buut, he has made himself perfectly acquainted ;
he has thoroughly studied them, and his studies have been
greatly helped by his artistic eye, and the artist's pleasure in
sensible things. Just before my arrival here he sent off to
Weimar a collection of specimens which he had selected for
me, which will give me a friendly welcome on my retam.

An ecclesiastic who is now residing in France, and had
it in contemplation to write a Nvork on the ancient mar-
bles, received through the influence of the Propaganda some
large pieces of marble from the Island of Paros. ^Mien
they arrived here they were cut up for specimens, and twelve
different pieces, fi-om the finest to the coai'sest grain, were
reserved for me. Some were of the greatest pxu-ity, Avliile
others are more or less mingled with mica, the former being
used for statuary, the latter for archltectiu-e. How much
an accurate knowledge of the material employed in the arts
must contribute to a right estimate of them, must be obvious
to every one.

There are opportunities enough here for my collecting

K05IE. 363

many more specimens. In our way to the ruins of Nero's
palace, we passed tkrough some artichoke grounds newly
turned up, and we could not resist the temptation to cram
oiu- pockets full of the granite, porphyry, and marble slabs
which lie here by thousands, and serve as imfailing Avitnesses
to the ancient splendom- of the walls wliich were once
covered with them.

Rome, Nov. 18, 1786.

I must now speak of a wonderful problematical picture,
which even in the midst of the many gems here, stiU makes a
good show of its own.

For many years there had been residing here a Frenchman
well kno-mi as an admirer of the arts, and a collector ; he
had got hold of an antique drawing in chalk, no one knows
how or whence. He had it retouched by Mengs, and kept it
in his collection as a work of very great value. Winckelmann
somewhere sj^eaks of it with enthusiasm. The Frenchman died,
and left the picture to his hostess as an antique. Mengs, too,
died, and declai'ed on his death-bed that it was not an antique,
but had been painted by himself. And now the Avhole world
is divided in opinion, some maintaining that Mengs had
one day, in joke, dashed it off with much facility ; others
asserting that INIengs could never do anything like it —
indeed, that it is almost too beautiful for Raffaelle. I saw it
yesterday, and must confess that I do not know an}i;hing
more beautiful than the figure of GanjTnede, especially the
head and shoiüders ; the rest has been much renovated.
However, the painting is in ill repute, and no one will relieve
the poor landlady of her treasure.

Rome, Nov. 20, 1786.
As experience fully teaches us that there is a general
pleasme in having poems, whatever may be their subject,
illustrated with di-awings and engravings — nay, that the
painter himself usually selects a passage of some poet or
other for the subject of his most elaborate paintings. Tisch-
bcin's idea is deserving of approbation, that poets and

364 LETTERS FKOM ITALY.

painters should work together from the very first, in order to
secure a perfect unity. The difficulty would assuredly be
greatly lessened, if it were applied to little pieces, such as
that the whole design M'ould easily admit of being taken in at
once by the mind, and worked out consistently with the
original plan.

Tischbein has suggested for such common labours some
very delightful idyllic thoughts, and it is really singular,
that those Avhich he wishes to see worked out in this way
are really such as neither poetry nor painting, alone, could
ever adequately describe. During our wallis together he
has talked with me about them, in the hopes of gaining
me over to his A-iews, and getting me to enter upon the
plan. The frontispiece for such a joint work is already
designed ; and did I not fear to enter upon any new tasks at
present, I might perhaps be tempted.

Rome, Nov. 22, 1786.
The Feast of St. Cecilia.
The morning of this happy day I must endeavour to per-
petuate by a few lines, and at least by description to impart
to others what I have myself enjoyed. The weather has been
beautiful and calm, quite a bright sky, and a warm sun. Ac-
companied by Tischbein, I set off for the Piazza of St. Peter's,
where we went about first of all from one part to another ;
Avhen it became too hot for that, walked up and down in the
shade of the great obelisk, which is full wide enough for two
abreast, and eating grapes which we purchased in the neigh-
bourhood. Then we entered the Sistine Chapel, which we
found bright and cheerful, and with a good light for the pic-
tm-es. '-The Last Judgment" divided our admiration with
the paintings on the roof by Michael Angelo. I could only
see and wonder. The mental confidence and boldness of the
master, and his grandeur of conception, are beyond all ex-
pression. After we had looked at all of them over and over
again, we left this sacred building, and went to St. Peter's,
which received from the bright heavens the loveliest light
possible, and every part of it was clearly lit up. As men
willing to be pleased, we were delighted with its vastness
and splendour, and did not allow an over nice or hyporcritical

EOME — ST. Peter's. 365

taste to mar oiir pleasure. We suppressed every harsher
judgment: we enjoyed the enjoyable.

Lastly we ascended the roof of the church, where one finds
in little the plan of a well-built city. Houses and magazines,
springs (in appearance at least), churches, and a great
temple all in the air, and beautiful walks between. We
mounted the dome, and saw glistening before iis the regions
of the Apennines, Soracte, and towards Tivoli the volcanic
huls. Frascati, Castelgandolfo, and the plains, and beyond
all the sea. Close at our feet lay the whole city of Rome in
its length and breadth, with its moimtain palaces, domes, &c.
Not a breath of air was moving, and in the upper dome it
was (as they say) like being in a hot-house. When we had
looked enough at these things, we went down, and they
opened for us the doors in the cornices of the dome, the
tympanum, and the nave. There is a passage all round, and
from above you can take a view of the whole chiux-h, and of
its several parts. As we stood on the cornices of the tympa-
num, we saw beneath us the pope passing to his mid-day
devotions. Nothing, therefore, was wanting to make our
view of St. Peter's perfect. We at last descended to the
area, and took in a neighboui-ing hotel a cheerful but frugal
meal, and then set off for St. Cecilia's.

It would take many words to describe the decorations of
this church, which was crammed full of people ; not a stone
of the edifice was to be seen. The pillars were covered
with red velvet wound round with gold lace ; the capitals
were overlaid with embroidered velvet, so as to retain some-
what of the appearance of capitals, and all the cornices and
piUars were in like manner covered Mdth hangings. All the
entablatures of the waUs were also covered with life-like
paintings, so that the whole church seemed to be laid out in
mosaic. Around the chm-ch, and on the high altar more
than two hxmdred wax tapers were burning. It looked like
a wall of lights, and the whole nave was perfectly lit up.
The aisles and side altars were equally adorned and illumi-
nated. Right opposite the high altar, and under the organ,
two scaffolds were erected, which also were covered with
velvet, on one of which were placed the singers, and on the
other the instruments, which kept up one unbroken strain of
music. The church was crammed full.

366 rETTEKS FROM ITALY.

I have heard an excellent kind of musical accompaniment,
just as there are concerts of violins, or of other instruments,
so here they had concerts of voices; so that one voice — the
soprano for instance — predominates, and sings solo, while
fi-om time to time the chorus of other voices falls in, and
accompanies it, always of com-se with the whole orchestra.
It has a good effect. I must end, as we in foct ended the
day. In the evening we come upon the Opera, where no less
a piece than " I Litigant!" was being performed, but Ave had
all the day enjoyed so much of excellence, that we passed
by the door.

Rome, Nov. 23, 1786.

In order that it may not be the same with my dear incog-
nito as with the ostrich, which thinks itself to be concealed
when it has hid its head, so in cei'tain cases I give it up, still
maintaining, however, my old thesis. I had without hesita-
tion paid a visit of compliment to the Prince von Lichten-
stein, the brother of my much-esteemed friend the Countess
Harrach, and occasionally dined with him, and I soon per-
ceived that my good-natui-e in this instance was likely to
lead me much fiu'ther. They began to feel their way, and to
talk to me of the Abbe Monti, and of his tragedy of Aris-
todemus, which is shortly to be brought out on the stage.
The author, it was said, wished above all things to read it to
me, and to hear my opinion of it, but I contrived, however,
to let the matter ch'op, without positively reflising ; at last,
however, I met the poet and some of his friends at the prince's
house, and the play was read aloud.

The hero is, as is well known, the King of Sparta, who by
various scruples of conscience was fhivon to commit suicide.
Prettily enough they contri^•cd to intimate to me their hope
that the author of Werther would not take it ill if he found
some of the rare passages of his own work made use of
in this drama. And so even before the walls of Sparta I can
not escape from this unhappy youth.

The piece has a very simple and calm movement, the
sentiments as well as the language are well suited to the
subject, — full of energy, and yet of tenderness. The work is
a proof of very fair talents.

ROME MOXTl's AKISTODEMITS. 367

I failed not, according to my fashion, (not, indeed, after
the Italian fashion) to point out, and to dwell upon all the
excellencies and merits of the piece, with which, indeed, all
present were tolerably satisfied, though still with Southern
impatience they seemed to require something more. I even
ventured to predict what effect it was to be hoped the piece
woidd have from the public. I excused myself on account of
mv ignorance of the coim.try, its way of thinking and tastes,
but was candid enough to add, that I did not clearly see how
the Romans, with their ^dtiated taste, who were accustomed to
see as an interlude either a complete comedy of three acts,
or an opera of two, or could not sit out a grand opera, without
the intennezzo of wholly foreign ballets, could ever take de-
light in the calm, noble movement of a regular tragedy. Then,
again, the subject of a suicide seemed to me to be altogether
out of the pale of an ItaUan"s ideas. That they stabbed men
to death, I knew by daily report of such events ; but that any
one should deprive himself of his own precious existence, or
even should hold it possible for another to do so ; of that no
trace or sjTnptom had ever been brought imder my notice.

However I allowed myself to be circumstantially en-
lightened as to all that might be urged in answer to my
objections, and readily yielded to their plausible arguments.
I also assured them I wished for nothing so much as to see
the piece acted, and with a band of friends to welcome it
with the most doM-nright and loudest applause. This assu-
rance was received in the most friendly manner possible, and
I had this time at least no cause to be dissatisfied with my
compliance — for indeed Prince Lichstenstein is politeness
itself, and found opportimity for my seeing in his company
many precious works of art, a sight of which is not easily
obtained without special permission, and for which conse-
quently high influence is indispensable. On the other hand,
my good humour foiled me, when the daughter of the Preten-
der expressed a wish to see the strange marmoset. I declined
the honour, and once more completely shrouded myself beneath
my disguise.

But still that is pot altogether the right way, and I here
feel most sensibly what I have often before observed in life,
that the man who makes good his first wish, must be on the
alert and active, must oppose himself to veiy much besides the

368 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

selfish, the mean, and the bad. It is easy to see this, but it
is extremely difficult to act in the spirit of it.

Nov. 24, 1786.

Of the people I can say nothing more than that they are
fine children of nature, ^yho, amidst pomp and honours of all
kinds, religion and the arts, are not one jot diiferent from
what they would be in cayes and forests. What strikes the
stranger most, and what to-day is making the whole city to
talk, but only to talk, is the common occun-ence of assassina-
tion. To-day the victim has been an excellent artist —
Schwendcmann, a Swiss, a medalUonist. The particulars of
his death greatly s resemble those of Windischmann's. The
assassin with whom he was struggling gaye him twenty stabs,
and as the watch came up, the villain stabbed himself. This
is not generally the fashion here ; the murderer usually
makes for the nearest chm-ch, and once there, he is quite
safe.

And now, in order to shade my picture a little, I might
bring into it crimes and disorders, earthquakes and inunda-
tions of all kinds, but for an eruption of Vesuvius, which has
just broke out, and has set almost all the visitors here in
motion ; and one must, indeed, possess a rare amount of self-
control, not to be carried away by the crowd. Really this
phenomenon of nature has in it something of a resemblance
to the rattle-snake, for its attraction is irresistible. At this
moment it almost seems as if aU the treasures of art in Eome
were annihilated; every stranger, without exception, has
broken off the cm-rent of his contemplations, and is hurrying
to Naples ; I, however, shall stay, in the hope that the moun-
tain wiU have a little eruption, expressly for my amusement.

Eome, Dec. 1, 1786.
Moritz is here, who has made himself famous by his
" Anthony the Traveller {Aiitoii Reiser,) and his " Wander-
ings in England" {Wanderwigen nach England.) He is a
right down excellent man, and we have been greatly pleased
with him.

HOME — ABCHEXHOLZ'S ITALY. 369

Rome, Dec. 1, 1786.

Here in Rome, Avhere one sees so many strangers, all of
whom do not visit this capital of the world merely for the
sake of the fine arts, but also for amusements of every kind,
the people are prepared for everything. Accordingly, they
have invented and attained great excellence in certain half
arts which require for their pursuit little more than manual
skill and pleasure in such handiwork, and which consequently
attract the interest of ordinary visitors.

^\jnong these is the art of painting in wax. Requir-
ing little more than tolerable skill in water-colouring, it
serves as an amusement to employ one's time in preparing
and adapting the wax, and then in burning it, and in such Uke
mechanical labours. Skilful artists give lessons in the art, and,
under the pretext of showing their pupils how to perform
their tasks, do the chief part of the work themselves, so that
when at last the figui-e stands out in bright relief in the
gilded frame, the fair disciple is ravished with the proof of
her unconscious talent.

Another pretty occupation is, with a veiy fine clay, to take
impressions of cameos cut in deep I'elief. This is also done in
the case of medallions, both sides of which are thus copied at
once. More tact, attention, and diligence is required, lastly,
for preparation of the glass-paste for mock jewels. For aU
these things Hofrath Reifienstein has the necessary workshops
and laboratories either in his house, or close at hand.

Dec. 2, 1786.
I have accidentally found here Anhenholtz"s Italv. A
work \ratten on the spot, in so contracted and narrow-
minded a spirit as this, is just as if one were to lay a book
purposely on the coals, in order that it might be browned and
blackened, and its leaves curled up and disfigured with smoke.
No doubt he has seen all that he writes about, but he pos-
sesses far too Uttle of real knowledge to support his high pre-
tensions and sneering tone ; and whether he praises or blames,
he is always in the wrong.

Vol. II. 2 b

870 XETTEES FEOM ITALY.

Dec. 2, 1786.

Such beautiful warm and quiet weather at the end of
November, (which however is often broken by a day's rain,)
is quite new to me. We spend the fine days in the open aii",
the bad in our room ; everywhere there is something to
learn and to do, something to be deUghted Avith.

On the 28th we paid a second visit to the Sistine Chapel, and
had the galleries opened, in order that we might obtain a
nearer view of the ceiHng. As the galleries are very narrow,
it is only with great difficulty that one forces one's way uj)
them, by means of the iron balustrades. There is an appear-
ance of danger about it, on which account those who are liable
to get dizzy had better not make the attempt ; all the discom-
fort, however, is fully compensated by the sight of the great
masterpiece of art. And at this moment I am so taken with
Michael Angelo, that after him I have no taste even for nature
herself, especially as I am unable to contemplate her with the
same eye of genius that he did. Oh, that there were only
some means of fixing such paintings in my sold ! At any rate,
I shall bring with me every engraving and drawing of his pic-
tm-es or drawings after him that I can lay hold of.

Then we went to the Loggie, painted by RafFaelle, and
scarcely dare I say that we could not cndm-e to look at
them. The eye had been so dilated and spoiled by those great
forms, and the glorious finish of every part, that it was
not able to follow the ingenious windings of the Arabesques ;
and the Scripture histories, however beautiful they were, did
not stand examination after the fonner. And yet to see these
Avorks frequently one after another, and to compare them toge-
ther at leisure, and without prejudice, must be a source of
great pleasiu'c, — for at first all symj^athy is more or less
exclusive.

From hence, under a sunshine, if anything rather too
warm, we proceeded to the "\'illa Pamphili, whose beautiful
gardens are much resorted to for amusement ; and there we
remained till evening. A large flat meadow, enclosed by long
ever green oaks and lofty pines, was sown aU over with daisies,
which tm-ned their heads to the sim. I now revived my
botanical speculations, Avhich I had indulged in the other day
during a walk towards IMonte Mario, to the ^'illa Melini, and
the Villa ISIadama. It is veiy interesting to observe the

EOME — THE APOLLO BELVEDEEE, ScC. 371

working of a vigorous unceasing vegetation, wMcli is here un-
broken by any severe cold. Here there are no buds : one has
actually to learn what a bud is. The sti-awberry-tree [arhdus
unedo) is at this season, for the second time, in blossom, while
its last fruits are just ripening. So also the orange-tree may
seen in flower, and at the same time bearing partiaUv and fully
ripened fruit. (The latter trees, however, if they ai-e not sheltered
by standing between buildings, are, at this season, generally
covered). As to the c;s-press, that most " venerable'" of trees,
when it is old and well grown, it affords matter enough for
thought. As soon as possible I shall pay a visit to the Botanical
Gardens, and hope to add there much to my experience.
Generally, there is nothing to be compared with the new life
which the sight of a new coimtry affords to a thoughtfiü per-
son. Although I am still the same being, I yet think I am
changed to the very marrow.

For the present I conclude, and shall perhaps fill the next
sheet with murders, disorders, earthquakes, and troubles,
in order that at any rate my pictures may not be without
their dark shades.

Borne, Bee. 3, 1786.

The weather lately has changed almost eveiy six days.
Two days quite glorious, then a doubtful one, and after it
two or three rainy ones, and then again fine weather. I
cndeavom- to put each day, according to its natm-e, to the
best use.

And yet these glorious objects are even still like new
acquaitauces to me. One has not yet lived with them, nor got
familiar with their pecuharities. Some of them attract us
with in-esistible power, so that for a time one feels indifferent,
if not unjust, towards all others. Thus, for iustance, the Pan-
theon, the Apollo Belvedere, some colossal heads, and ver\-
recently the Sistine Chapel, have by turns so won my whole
heart, that I scarcely saw any thing besides them. But,
in truth, can man, little as man always is, and accustomed t o
littleness, ever make himself equal to aU that here surroimds
him of the noble, the vast, and the refined ? Even though
he should in any degree adapt himself to it, then how
vast is the miütitude of objects that immediately press tipon
2 B 2

372 LETTERS FK0;M ITALY.

him from all sides, and meet him at every turn, of which
each demands for itself the tribute of his whole attention.
How is one to get out of the difficulty? No other way
assuredly than by patiently allowing it to work, becoming
industrious, and attending the while to all that others have
accomplished for our benefit.

Winckelmami's History of Art, translated by Rea, (the
new edition), is a very useful book, which I have just pro-
cured, and here on the spot find it to be highly profitable, as
I have around me many kind friends, willing to explain and
to comment upon it.

Roman antiquities also begin to have a charm for me.
History, inscriptions, coins, (of which formerly I knew
nothing.) all are pressing upon me. As it happened to me
in the case of natural history, so goes it with me here also ;
for the history of the Avhole world attaches itself to this spot,
and I reckon a new-birth day, — a true new birth from the
day that I entered Rome.

December 5, 1786.
During the few weeks I have been here, I have already seen
many strangers come and go, so that I have often wondered at
the levity with which so many treat these precious monu-
ments. God be thanked that hereafter none of those birds of
passage will be able to impose upon me. When in the north
they shall speak to me of Rome, none of them now will be
able to excite my spleen, for I also have seen it, and know too,
in some degree, where I have been.

December 8, 1786.

We have every now and then the finest days possible. The
rain which falls from time to time has made the grass and
garden stuffs quite verdant. Evergreens too are to be seen
here at different spots, so that one scai'cely misses the fallen
leaves of the forest trees. In the gardens you may see
orange-trees full of ü-uit, left in the open ground and not
imder cover.

I had intended to give you a particular account of a very
pleasant trip which we took to the sea, and of our fishing ex-
ploitä, but in the evening poor Moritz, as he was riding

KOME ■n-I^'CKELMA^-^''s LETTEES. 373

homo, broke his arm, his horse having sh'pped on the smooth
Roman pavement. This marred all om- pleasiu'e, and has
pkmged our little domestic circle in sad affliction.

Dec. 15, 1786.

I am heartuy delighted that you have taken my sudden
disappearance just as I wished you should. Pray appease
for me eveiy one that may have taken offence at it. I never
•wished to give any one pain, and even now I cannot say
anything to excuse myself. God keep me from ever afflicting
my friends with the premises which led me to this conclusion.

Here I am gradually recovering from my " salto mortale,'*
and studying rather than enjoying myself. Rome is a world, and
one must spend years before one can become at all acquainted
with it. How happy do I consider those travellers who can.
take a look at it and go their way !

Yesterday many of Winckelmann's letters, which he wrote
from Italy, fell into my hands. With what emotions did I
not begin to read them. About this same season, some one and
thii-ty years ago, he came hither a still poorer simpleton than
myself, but then he had such thorough German enthusiasm
for all that is sterling and genuine, cither in antiquity or
art. How bravely and diligently did he not work his way
through all difficulties ; and what good does it not do me, —
the remembrance of such a man in such a place I

After the objects of Nature, who in all her parts is true to
herself and consistent, nothing speaks so loudly as the re-
membrance of a good intelligent man, — that genuine art which
is no less consistent and harmonious than herself. Here in
Rome we feel this right well, where so many an arbitrary
caprice has had its day, where so many a folly has immor-
talized itself by its power and its gold.

The following passage in Winckelmann's letters to Fran-
conia particularly pleased me. " We must look at all the
objects in Rome with a certain degree of phlegm, or else one
will be taken for a Frenchman. In Rome, I believe, is the
high school for all the world, and I also have been pm-ified
and tried in it."

This remark applies directly to my mode of visiting the
different objects here ; and most ceitain is it, that out of

374 LETTERS TBOM ITALT.

Rome no one can have an idea how one is scliooled in Rome.
One must, so to speak, be new born, and one looks back on
one"s earlier notions, as a man does on the little shoes, which
fitted him when a child. The most ordinary man leai'ns
something here, at least he gains one uncommon idea, even
though it never should pass into his whole being.

This letter will reach you in the new year. All good
wishes for the beginning \ before the end of it we shall see
one another again, and that wül be no little gratification.
The one that is passing away has been the most important
of my life. I may now die, or I may tarry a little longer yet ;
in either case it wiU be aHke well. And now a word or two
more for the little ones.

To the children you may either read or tell what follows.
Here there are no signs of winter. The gardens are planted
with evergreens ; the sun shines bright and warm ; snow is
nowhere to be seen, except on the most distant hills towards
the north. The citron trees, which are planted against the
garden walls, are now, one after another, covered with reeds, but
the oranges are allowed to stand quite open. A hundi-ed of the
very finest fniit may be seen hanging on a single tree, which
is not, as with us, dwarfed, and planted in a bucket, but stands
in the earth fi*ee and joyous, amidst a long line of brothers.
The oranges are even now very good, but it is thought they
will be still finer.

We were lately at the sea, and had a haid of fish, and
drew to the hght fishes, crabs, and rare imivalves of the most
wonderful shapes conceivable ; also the fish which gives an
electric shock to all who touch it.

Rome, Dec. 20, 1786.
And yet, after all, it is more trouble and care than enjoy-
ment. The Regenerator, which is changing me within and
without, continues to work. I certainly thought that I had
something really to learn here ; but that I should have to take
so low a place in the school, that I must forget so much that
I had learnt, or rather absolutely unlearn so much, — that I had
never the least idea of. Now, however, that I am once conA-iuced
of its necessity, I have devoted myself to the task ; and the more
I am obliged to renounce my former self, the more delighted I

EOME ^DE. MUXTEE. 375

am. I am like an architect who has begim to build a tower,
but finds he has laid a bad foimdation : he becomes aware of
the fact betimes, and willingly goes to work to ptdl down all
that he has raised above the earth : having done so, he pro-
ceeds to enlarge his gi-ound plan, and now rejoices to anti-
cipate the undoubted stability of his fiitiu'e b lilding. Heaven
gi'aut that, on my return, the moral consequences may be dis-
cernible of all that this living in a wider world has efiected
within me. For, iu sooth, the moral sense as well as the
artistic is undergoing a great change.

Dr. Munter is here on his return fi-om his tour in Sicilv —
an energetic, vehement man. "NMiat objects he may have, I
cannot tell. He will reach you in ^lay, and has much to tell
you. He has been two years travelling in Italy. He is dis-
gusted with the Italians, who have not paid due respect to
the weightv' letters of recommendation which were to have
opened to him many an archive, many a piivate librarj- ; so
that he is far from having accomplished his object in coming
here.

He has collected some beautiful coins, and possesses, he
tells me, a manuscript which reduces numismatics to as pre-
cise a system of characteristics as the Liuntean system of
botany. Herder, he says, knows still more about it : probably
a transcript of it will be permitted. To do something of the
kind is certainly possible, and, if well done, it will be truly
valuable ; and we must sooner or later enter seriously into this
branch of leamiugr.

Hotne, Dec. 25, 1786.

I am now beginning to revisit the principal sights of Rome :
in such second views, our first amazement generally dies away
into more of sympathy and a pm'er perception of the true value
of the objects. In order to form an idea of the highest achieve-
ments of the human mind, the soul must first attain to perfect
freedom from prejudice and prepossession.

Marble is a rare material. It is on this account that the
Apollo Belvedere in the original is so infinitely ravisliing ; for
that sublime air of youthful fi-eedom and ^•igom•, of never-
changing juvenescence, which breathes around the marble, at
once vanishes in the best even of plaster casts.

376 LETTEKS FROM ITALY.

In the Palace Rondanini, which is right opposite to our
lodgiugs. there is a Medusa-mask, above the size of life, in
which the attempt to pourtray a lofty and beautiful counte-
nance in the nimibing agony of death has been indescribably
successful. I possess an excellent cast of it, but the charm
of the marble remains not. The noble semi-transparency of
the yellow stone — approaching almost to the hue of flesh — is
vanished. Compared with it, the plaster of Paris has a chalky
and dead look.

And yet how delightful it is to go to a modeller in gypsum,
and to see the noble limbs of a statue come o\it one by one
from the mould, and thereby to acquire wholly new ideas of
their shapes. And then, again, by such means all that in
Rome is scattered, is brought together, for the purpose of com-
parison ; and this alone is of inestimable service. Accordingly,
I could not resist the temptation to procure a cast of the co-
lossal head of Jupiter. It stands riglit opposite to my bed, in
a good light, in order that I may addi'ess my morning devo-
tions towards it. "With all its grandeur and dignity it has,
however, given rise to one of the funniest interludes possible.

Om- old hostess, when she comes to make my bed. is gene-
rally followed by her pet cat. Yesterday I was sitting in the
great hall, and could hear the old woman pursue her avocation
within. On a sudden, in gi-eat haste, and with an excitement
quite unusual to her, she opens the door, and calls to me to come
quickly and see a wonder. To my question what was the
matter, she replied the cat was saying its prayers. Of the
animal she had long observed, she told me, that it had as
much sense as a Christian — ^but this was really a great wonder.
I hastened to see it with my ovra eyes ; and it was indeed
strange enough. The bust stood on a high pedestal, and as
there was a good length of the shoidders, the head stood
rather high. Now the cat had sprung upon the table, and
had placed her fore-feet on the breast of the god. and, stretch-
ing her body to its utmost length, just reached with her muzzle
his sacred beard, vrhich she was licking most ceremoniously ;
and neither by the exclamation of the hostess, nor my entrance
into the room, was she at all disturbed. I left the good dame
to her astonishment ; and .she afterwards accounted for puss's
strange act of devotion, by supposing that this sharp-nosed
cat had caught scent of the grease which had probably been

EOME PORTEAIT BT TISCHBEIX. 377

transferred from the mould to the deep lines of the beard, and
had there remained.

Dec. 29, 1786.

Of Tischbein I have much to say and to boast. In the first
place, a thorough and original Gemian, he has made himself
entirely what he is. In the next place, I must make grateful
mention of the friendly attentions he has she\\Ti me through-
out the time of his second stay in Rome. For he has had
prepared for me a series of copies after the best masters,
some in black chalk, others in sepia and water colours ; which
in Germany, when I shall be at a distance from the originals,
wül grow in value, and wiU serve to remind me of all that is
rarest and best.

At the commencement of his career as an artist, when he
set up as a portrait painter, Tischbein came in contact,
especially in ^lunich, with distinguished personages, and in
his intercourse with them his feeling of art has been strength-
ened and his ■views enlarged.

The second part of the " Zerstreute Blatter' (stray leaves) I
have brought with me hither, and they are doubly welcome.
What good influence this little book has had on me, even on
the second perusal, Herder, for his reward, shall be circum-
stantially infoiined. Tischbein cannot conceive how anything
so excellent could ever have been written by one who has
never been in Italv.

Dec. 29, 1786.
In this world of artists one lives, as it were, in a mirrored
chamber, where, without wishing it, one sees one's own image
and those of others continually multiplied. Latterly I have often
observed Tischbein attentively regarding me ; and now it
appears that he has long cherished the idea of painting my
portrait. His design is already settled, and the canvass stretched.
I am to be drawn of the size of life, enveloped in a white mantle,
and sitting on a fallen obelisk, viewing the ruins of the Cam-
pagna di Roma, which are to fill up the backgi-ound of the
pictm'C. It will form a beautiful piece, only it will be rather
too large for our northern habitations. I indeed may again
crawl into them, but the portrait ■sA'ill never be able to enter
their doors.

378 liETIEES FKOM ITALY.

Dec. 29, 1786.

I cannot help obserWng the great efforts that are constantly
being made to draw me li-om my retirement — how the poets
either read or get their pieces read to me ; and I should be
blind did I not see that it depends only on myseK whether I
shall play a pait or not. All this is amusing enough : for I
have long since measm-ed the lengths to which one may go in
Rome. The many little coteries here at the feet of the mis-
tress of the world sti'ongly remind one occasionally of an ordi-
nary countiy to^^^l.

In sooth, things here are much like what they are every
where else ; and what could he done with me and through me
causes me ennui long before it is accomplished. Here you
must take up with one party or another, and help them to
cany on their feuds and cabals ; and you must praise these
artists and those dilettanti, disparage their rivals, and, above
all, be pleased with everj' thing that the rich and gi"eat do.
All these little meannesses, then, for the sake of which one is
almost ready to leave thu world itself, — must I here mix my-
self up with them, and that too when I have neither interest
nor stake in them r No ; I shall go no further than is merely
necessaiT to know what is going on, and thus to leam, in
private, to be more contented with my lot, and to procure for
myself and others all the pleasure possible in the dear- wide
world. I wish to see Rome in its abiding and permanent
features, and not as it passes and changes with ever}- ten years.
Had I time, I might wish to employ it better. Above all,
one may study history here quite differently from what one
can on any other spot. In other places one has, as it were,
to read oneself into it from without : here one fancies that he
reads from within outwards : all arranges itself around you,
and seems to proceed from yoii. And this holds good not only of
Roman history, but also ofthat of the whole world. From Rome
I can accompany the conquerors on theii" march to the Weser
or to the Euphrates ; or, if I wish to be a sight-seeer, I can wait
in the Via Sacra for the triumphant generals, and in the mean-
time receive for my support the largesses of com and money ;
and so take a very comlbrtable share in all the splendour'.

Rome, Jan. 2, 1787.
Men may say what they will ia favour of a written and

HOME — MY PLANS POK THE FUTURE. 379

oral communication ; it is only in a very few cases indeed that
it is at all adequate, for it never can convey the true character
of any object soever — no, not even of a purely intellectual one.
But if one has abeady enjoyed a siu'e and steady view of the
object, then one may profitably hear or read about it, for then
there exists a living impression around which all else may
arrange itself in the mind ; and then one can think and judge.
You have often laughed at me, and wished to drive me
away from the pecuHar taste I had for examining stones,
plants, or animals, from certain theoretical points of view :
now, however, I am directing my attention to architects, sta-
tuaries, and painters, and hope to find myself learning some-
thing: even from them.

Without date.

After all this I must further speak to you of the state of ia-
decision I am in with regard to my stay in Italy. In my last
letter I wi-ote you that it was my purpose immediately after
Easter to leave Rome, and return home. Untu then I shall
yet gather a few more shells from the shore of the great ocean,
and so my most urgent needs wiU have been appeased. I am
now cm-cd of a violent passion and disease, and restored to
the enjoyment of life, to the enjoyment of history, poetrj-, and
of antiquities, and have treasures which it will take me many
a long year to polish and to finish.

Recently, however, friendly voices have reached me to the
efiect that I ought not to be in a hurry, but to wait till I can
retunr home with still richer gains. From the Duke, too, I
have received a very kind and considerate letter, in which he
excuses me from my duties for an indefinite period, and sets me
quite at ease ■with respect to my absence. My mind thei'e-
forc turns to the vast field which I must otherwise have left
untrodden. For instance, in the case of coins and cameos, I
have as yet been able to do nothing. I have indeed begim to
read Winckelmann"s Histoiy of Art, but have passed over
Egj-pt ; for, I feel once again, that I must look out before
me ; and I have done so with regard to Egyptian matters.
The more we look, the more distant becomes the horizon of
art ; and he who woiüd step sm-ely, mi;st step slowly.

I intend to stay here till the Carnival ; and, in the first week
of Lent, shall set off for Naples, taking Tischbeia with me.

S80 LETTERS FKOM ITALT.

both because it ■«ill be a treat to him, and because, in his
society, all my enjoyments are more than doubled. I purpose
to rctm-n hither before Easter, for the sake of the solemnities of
Passion week. But there Sicily lies — there belo^A^ A journey
tliither requires more preparation, and ought to be taken too
in the autumn : it must not be merely a ride round it and across
it, which is soon done, but from which one brin^^s away with
us in retui-n for our fixtigue and money nothing but a simple —
/ have seen it. The best way is to take up one's quarters, first
of all, in Palermo, and afterwards in Catania ; and then from
those points to make fixed and profitable exciu-sions, having
previously, however, well studied Riedesel and others on the
locality.

If, then, I spend the summer in Rome, I shall set to work to
study, and to prejjare myself for visiting Sicily. As I cannot
well go there before November, and must stay there till over
December, it will be the spring of 1788 before I can hope to
get home again. Then, again. I haA'C had before my mind a
mediiis terminus. Giräig up the idea of visiting Sicily, I have
thought of spending a part of the summer at Rome, and then,
after paying a second visit to Florence, getting home by the
autumn.

But all these plans have been much perplexed by the news of
the Duke's misfortune. Since the letters Avhich informed me
of this event I have had no rest, and would most like to set off
at Easter, laden with the fragments of my conquests, and,
passing qidckly through Upper Italy, be in Weimar again by
June.

I am too much alone here to decide ; and I Avrite you this long
story of my whole position, that you may be good enough to sum-
mon a council of those Avho love me, and who, being on the spot,
know the circiunstances better than I do. Let them, therefore,
determine the proper coin-se for me to take, on the supposition
of what, I assure you, is the fact, that I am myself more dis-
posed to return than to stay. The strongest tie that holds me
in Italy is Tischbein. I should never, even should it be my
happy lot to return a second time to this beautiful land, leani
so much in so short a time as I have now done in the society
of this weU-educated, highly refined, and most upright man,
who is devoted to me both body and soul. I cannot now tell
you how thickly the scales are tailing fi'om off my eyes. He who

KOME — COLOSSAL HEAD OF JUXO. 381

travels by night, takes the dawn for day. and a murky day for
brightness : what will he think, then, when he shall see the
sun ascending the mid-heaven ? For I have hitherto kept
myself from all the Avorld, which yet is yearning to catch me
by degrees, and M^hich I, for my part, was not unwilling to
watch and observe with stealthy glances.

I have written to Fritz a joking account of my reception
into the Arcadia ; and indeed it is only a subject of joke, for
the Institute is really sunk into miserable insignificance.

Next Monday week Monti's tragedy is to be acted. He is
extremely anxious, and not without cause. He has a very
ti'oublesome public, which requires to be amused from moment
to moment ; and his piece has no brilliant passages in it. He
has asked me to go with him to his box, and to stand by him
as confessor in this critical moment. Another is ready to
translate my " Iphigenia ;" another — to do I know not what, in
honour of me. They are all so divided into parties, and so
bitter against each other. But my countrymen are so unani-
mous in my favour, that if I gave them any encom-age-
ment, and yielded to them in the very least, they would try a
hundred follies with me, and end with cro-miing me on the
Capitol, of which they have already seriously thought — so
foolish is it to have a stranger and a Protestant to play the
first part in a comedy. "What connexion there is in all this,
and laow great a fool I M-as to think that it was all intended
for my honour, — of all this we will talk together one day.

January 6, 1787.

I have just come from Moritz, whose arm is healed, and loosed
from its bandages. It is well set, firm, and he can move it quite
freely. ^Miat dm-ing these last forty days I have experienced
and learned, as nurse, confessor, and private secretary to this
patient, may prove of benefit to us hereafter. The most pain-
ful sufferings and the noblest enjoyments went side by side
throughout this M'hole period.

To refresh me, I yesterday had set up in our sitting-room
a cast of a colossal head of Jimo, of which the original is in
the ViUa Ludo^-isi. This was my first love in Rome ; and now
I have gained the object of my wishes. No words can give
the remotest idea ot it. It is like one of Homer's sonsrs.

382 LETTERS TROM ITALY.

I have, liowever, deserved the ncighboiu-hood of such good
society for the futui'e, for I can now tell you that Iphigenia
is at hist finished — i. e. that it lies before me on the table in
two tolerably concordant copies, of which one will very soon
begin its pÜgrimage towards youi'self. Receive it Avith all
indulgence, for, to speak the truth, what stands on the paper
is not exactly what I intended ; but stiU it wiU convey an idea
of what was in my mind.

You complain occasionally of some obscure passages in
my letters, which allude to the oppression, which I suifer in
the midst of the most glorious objects in the world. With
all this my fellow traveller, this Grecian princess, has had a
great deal to do, for she has kept me close at work when I
wished to be seeing sights.

I often think of our worthy friend, who had long determined
upon a grand torn-, which one might well term a voyage of
discovery. After he had studied and economized several
years, with a view to this object, he took it in his head to
carry away with him the daughter of a noble house, thinking
it was aU one still.

With no less of caprice, I determined to take Iphigenia
with me to Carslbad. I will now briefly enumerate the
places where I held special converse with her.

When I had left behind me the Brenner, I took her out of
my large portmanteau, and placed her by my side. At the
Lago di Garda, while the strong south wind drove the waves
on the beach, and where I was at least as much alone as
my heroine on the coast of Tam'is, I drew the first
oiitlines, which afterwards I filled up at Verona, Yicenza,
and Padua ; but above all, and most diligently at Venice.
After this, however, the v/ork came to a stand-stiU, for I hit
upon a new design, Aiz., of writing an Iphigenia at Delphi,
which I should have immediately cari'ied into execution, but
for the distractions of my young, and for a feeling of duty
towards the older piece.

In Rome, however, I went on with it, and pi-oceeded with
tolerable steadiness. Every evening before I went to sleep
I prepared myself for my morning's task, which was resumed
immediately I awoke. My way of proceeding was quite
simple. I calmly wrote down the piece, and tried the melody
line by line, and period by period. What has been thus

KOME — CHKISTMAS-DAT. 383

])roduced, you shall soon judge of. For my part, doing this
■work, I have learnt more than I have done. With the piece
itself there shall follow some further remarks.

Ja7i. 6, 1787.

To speak again of chm-ch matters, I must tell you that on
the night of Christmas-day we- wandered about in troops, and
visited all the chiu-ches where solemn services were being per-
formed ; one especially was \asited, because of its organ and
music. The latter was so arranged, that in its tones nothing
belonging to pastoral music was wanting — neither the singing
of the shepherds, nor the twittering of birds, nor the bleating
of sheep.

On Christmas-day I saw the Pope and the whole consistory in
S. Peter's, where he celebrated high mass partly before and
partly from his throne. It is of its kind an imequaUed sight,
splendid and dignified enough, but I have grown so old in my
Protestant Diogenism, that this pomp and splendour revolt
more than they attract me. I, like my pious forefathers, am dis-
posed to say to these spiritual conquerors of the world, " Hide
not from me the sun of higher art and purer humanity."

Yesterday, which was the Feast of Epiphany, I saw and
heard mass celebrated after the Greek rite. The ceremonies
appeared to me more solemn, more severe, more suggestive,
and yet more popvdar than the Latin.

But there, too, I also felt again that I am too old for any-
thing, except for truth alone. Their ceremonies and operatic
music, their gyrations and ballet-like movements — it all
passes otf from me like water from an oilskin cloak. A work
of nature, however, like that of a Simset seen from the
Vula Madonna — a work of art, like my much honom-ed Juno,
makes a deep and vivid impression on me.

And now I must ask you to congratidate me with regard to
theatrical matters. Next week seven theatres vv'ill be opened.
Anfossi himself is here, and will act " Alexander in India."
A CjTus also will be represented, and the " Taking of
Troy" as a baUet. That assuredly must be something for
the chikben!

384 LETTEKS FROM ITALY.

Rome, Jan. 10, 1787.

Here, then, conies the " child of sorrows," for this sur-
name is due to "• Iphigenia" in more than one sense. On the
occasion of my reading it out to om* artists, I put a mark
against several Hnes, some of which I have in my opinion
improved, but others I have allowed to stand — perhaps Herder
will cross a few of them with his pen.

The true caxise of my having for many years preferred
prose for my works, is the great uncertainty in which om*
prosody fluctuates, in consequence of which many of my
judicious, learned fi-iends and feUow artists have left many
things to taste, a course, however, which was little favom--
able to the establishing of any certain standard.

I should never have attempted to translate " Iphigenia"
into iambics, had not ]\Ioritz"s prosody shone upon me like a
star of Ught. My conversation with its author, especially
during his confinement from his accident, has still more en-
lightened me on the subject, and I would recommend my
friends to think favoui'ably of it.

It is somewhat singular, that in our language we have but
very few syllables which are decidedly long or short. With all
the others, one proceeds as taste or caprice may dictate.
Now Moritz, after much thought, has hit upon the idea that
there is a certain order of rank among our syllables, and that
the one which in sense is more emphatic is long as compared
with the less significant, and makes the latter short, but on the
other hand, it does in its turn become short, whenever it
comes into the neighbourhood of another which possesses
greater weight and emphasis than itself. Here, then, is at
least a rule to go by : and even though it does not decide the
whole matter, still it opens out a path by which one may hope
to get a little further. I have often allowed myself to be
influenced by these rules, and generally have found my car
agreeing with them.

As I foi-merly spoke of a public reading, I must quietly
tell you how it passed off. Tlaese yomig men accustomed to
those earlier vehement and impetuous pieces, expected some-
thing after the fashion of Bcrlichingen, and could not so well
make out the calm movement of " Iphigenia," and yet the
nobler and pm-er passages did not fail of effect. Tischbein,

EOME — A STATUE OF MINEKVA. 385

wlio also could hardly reconcile himself to this entire absence of
passion, produced a pretty illustration or symbol of the work.
He illustrated it by a sacrifice, of which the smoke, borne down
by a light breeze, descends to the earth, while the freer flame
strives to ascend on high. The drawing Avas very pretty and
significant. I have the sketch still by me. And thus the
work, which I thought to despatch in no time, has employed,
hindered, occupied, and tortured me a full quarter of a year.
This is not the first time that I have made an important
task a mere by-work ; but we will on that subject no l9nger
indulge in fancies and disputes.

I inclose a beautiful cameo, — a lion with a gad-flj^ buzzing
at his nose ; this seems to have been a favourite subject with
the ancients, for they have repeated it very often. I should like
you fi-om this time forward to seal yoiu- letters with it, in
order that thi-ough this (little) trifle an echo of art may, as
it were, reverberate from you to me.

Rome, Jan. 13, 1787.

How much have I to say each day, and how sadly am I pre-
vented, either by amusement or occupation, from committing
to paper a single sage remark! And then again, the fine
days when it is better to be anyw^iere rather than in one's
room, which, without stove or chimney, receive us only to
sleep or to discomfort ! Some of the incidents of the last week,
however, must not be left unrecorded.

In the Palace Giustiniani there is a Miaerva, which claims
my undivided homage. Winckelmann scarcely mentions it,
and, at any rate, not in the right place ; and I feel myself
quite unworthy to say anything about it. As we contem-
plated the image, and stood gazing at it a long time, the
wife of the keeper of the collection said — This must have once
been a holy image ; and the English, who happen to be of
this religion, are still accustomed to pay worship to it by
kissing this hand of it, (which in truth was quite white,
while the rest of the statue was brownish). She further told
us, that a lady of this religion had been there not long before,
and, throwing herself on her knees before the statue, had
regularly offered prayer to it ; and I, she said, as a Christian,
coidd not help smiling at so strange an action, and was

Vol. H. 2 c

386 LETTERS FKOM TTALT.

obliged to run out of the room, lost I should burst out "into a
loud laugh before her face. As I was unwilling to move from
the statue, she asked me if my beloved Avas at all like the
statue that it charmed me so much. The good dame knew of
nothing besides devotion or love ; but of the pure admira-
tion for a glorious piece of man's handi^^•ork, — of a mere
sympathetic veneration for the creation of the human intel-
lect, she could form no idea. We rejoiced in that noble
Englishwoman, and went away with a longing to turn our
steps back again, and I shall certainly soon go once more
thither. If my friends wish for a more particular descrip-
tion, let them read what Winckelmann says of the M<jh style
of art among the Greeks ; unfortunately, however, he does
not adduce this Minerva as an illustration. But if I do not
greatly err, it is, nevertheless, of this high and severe style,
since it passes into the beautiful, — it is, as it were, a bud that
opens, — and so a Minerva, whose character this idea of tran-
sition so well suits.

Now for a spectacle of a different kind. On the feast of
the Three Kings, or the Commemoration of Christ's manifes-
tation to the Gentiles, we paid a visit to the Propaganda.
There, in the presence of three cardinals and a large audience,
an essay was first of all delivered, which treated of the place
in which the Virgin Mary received the three Magi, — in the
stable, — or if not, where ? Next, some Latin verses were
read on similar subjects, and after this a series of about
thirty scholars came forward, one by one, and read a little
piece of poetry in their native tongues ; Malabar, Epirotic,
Turkish, Moldavian, Hellenic, Persian, Colchian, Hebrew,
Arabic, Sp-ian, Coptic, Saracenic, Armenian, Erse, Mada-
gassic, Icelandic, Bohemian, Greek, Isam'ian, vEthiopic,
&c. The poems seemed for the most part to be composed in
the national syllabic measure, and to be delivered \^'ith the
vernacular declamation, for most barbaric rhythms and tones
occurred. Among them the Greek sounded like a star in the
night. The unditory laughed most unmercifidly at the
strange soimds; and so tliis representation also became a
force.

And now (before concluding) a little anecdote, to show
with what levity holy things are treated in Holy Rome. The
deceased cardinal, Albani, was once present at one of those

KOME MONTI, " AKISTOÜEMO." 387

festal meetings which I have just been describing. One of
the scholars, with his face turned towards the Cardinals,
began in a strange pronunciation, Gnaja ! Gnaja ! so that it
sounded something like canaglia ! canaglia ! The Cardinal
turned to his brothers with a whisper, " He knows us at
any rate."

January 13, 1787.
How much has Winekelmann done, and yet how much
reason has he left ns to wish that he had done still more.
With the materials which he had collected he built quickly,
in order to reach the roof. Were he stiU living, he would
be the first to give us a re-cast of his great work. What
further observations, M'hat corrections would he not have
made — to what good vise would he not have put all that others ,
following his oviti jDrineiples, have observed and effected.
And, besides. Cardinal Albani is dead, out of respect to
whom he has written much ; and, jJcrhaps, concealed much.

January 15, 1787.

And so then, " Aristodemo" has at last been acted, and
with good success too, and the greatest applause : as the
Abbate Monti is related to the house of the Nepote, and is
highly esteemed among the higher orders : from these, there-
fore, all was to be hoped for. The boxes indeed were but
sparing in their plaudits ; as for the pit, it was won from the
very fii-st, by the beautiful language of the poet and the
appropriate recitation of the actors, and it omitted no
opportimity of testifying its approbation. The bench of the
German artists distinguished itself not a little; and this time
they were quite in place, though it is at all times a little
ovorloud.

The author himself remained at home, full of anxiety for
the success of the piece. From act to act favom-able des-
patches arrived, v.hich changed his fear into the greatest
joy. Now there is no lack of repetitions of the representa-
tion, and aU is on the best track. Thus, by the most
opposite things, if only each has the merit it claims, the
favour of the multitude, as well as of the connoissem', may
be won.

2 c 2

388 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

But the acting was in the highest degi'ee meritorious, and
the chief actor, who appears throughout the piece, spoke and
acted cleverly, — one could almost fancy one of the ancient
Caesars was marching before us. They had verv judiciously
transferred to their stage di-esses the costume which, in the
statue, stn'Ices the spectator as so dignified ; and one saw at
once that the actor had studied the antique.

Jamntry 18, 1787.

Rome is thi-eatened with a gi-eat artistic loss. The King
of Naples has ordered the Hercules Famese to be brought to
his palace. The news has made all the artists quite sad ;
however, on this occasion, we shall see something which was
hidden from our forefathers.

The aforesaid statue, namely, from the head to the knee,
"with the lower part of the feet, together with the sockle on
which it stood, were found within the Famesian domain, but
the legs from the knee to the ancle were wanting, and had
been supplied by Giuglielmo Porta ; on these it had stood since
its discovery to the present day. In the mean time, how-
ever, the genuine old legs were foimd in the lands of th«
Borghesi. and were to be seen in their villa.

Recently, however, the Prince Borghese has achieved a
victory over himself, and has made a present of these costly
relics to the King of Naples. The legs by Porta are being
removed, and the genuine ones replaced; and every one is
promising himself, however well contented he has been
hitherto with the old, quite a new treat, and a more harmo-
nious enjoyment.

Rome, January 18, 1787.

Yesterday, which was the festival of the Holy Abbot S.
Antony, we had a merry day ; the weather was the finest in
the world; though there had been a hard frost during the
night, the day was bright and warm.

One may remark, that all religions which enlarge their
worship or their speculations must at last come to this,
of making the brute creation in some degi-ee partakers of
spiritual favouis. S. Anthony, — Abbot or Bishop, — is the
patron Saiut of all four-footed creatures ; his festival is a kind

ROME DEATH OF FKEDEEICK THE GREAT. 389

of Satunialian holiday for the otherwise oppressed beasts, and
;dso for their keepers and drivers. All the gentrj- must on
this day either remain at home, or else be content to travel
on foot. And there are no lack of fearful stories, which tell
how unbelieving masters, who forced their coachmen to di'ive
them on this day, were punished by suffering great calamities.

The church of the Saint lies in so wide and open a district,
that it might almost be called a desert. On this day, however,
it is full of life and fun. Horses and miües, with their manes
and tails prettily, not to say gorgeously, decked out with
ribbons, are brought before the little chapel, (which stands
at some distance from the church,) where a priest, armed
\Wth a brush, and not sparing of the holy water, which stands
before him in buckets and tubs, goes on sprinkling the lively
creatures, andoftenplays them a roguish trick, in order to make
them start and frisk. Pious coachmen offer their wax-tapers, of
larger or smaller size ; the masters send alms and presents,
in order that the valuable and useful animals may go safely
through the coming year without hurt or accidents. The
donkies and horned cattle, no less valuable and useful to their
owners, have, likewise, their modest share in this blessing.

Afterwards we delighted ourselves with a long walk under
a delicious sky, and smTounded by the most interesting
objects, to which, however, we this time paid yery little
attention, but gave full scope and rein to joke and mer-
riment.

Rome, January 19, 1787.

So then the gieat king, whose glory filled the world, whose
deeds make him worthy even of the Papists' paradise, has
departed this life, and gone to converse with heroes like him-
self in the realm of shades. How disposed does one feel to
sit still when such an one is gone to his rest.

This has been a veiy good day. Fii'st of all we ^"isited a
part of the Capitol. Avhich we had previously neglected ; then
we crossed the Tiber, and drank some Spanish wine on
board a ship which had just come into port : — it was on this
spot that Romidus and Remus are said to have been found.
Thus keeping, as it were, a double or treble festival, we
revelled in the inspiration of art, of a mild atmosphere, and
o€ antiquarian reminiscences.

390 XETTERS FROM ITALY.

January 20, 1 787.

"^Vliat at first furnishes a hearty enjoymcut, ^yhen we take
it superficially only, often weighs on us after^^•ar(is most
oppressively, when we see that without solid knowledge the
true delight nivist be missed.

As regards anatomy, I am pretty well prepared, and I have,
not without some labour, gained a tolerable knowledge of the
human fi-ame ; for the continual examination of the ancient
statues is continually stimulating one to a more perfect under-
standing of it. In our Medico Chirm-gical Anatomy, little
more is in view than an acquaintance with the several parts,
and for this pm'pose the sorriest picture of the muscles may
seiwc very well ; but in Rome the most exquisite parts would
not even be noticed, imless as helping to make a noble and
beautiful form.

In the great Lazaretto of San Spii-ito there has been pre-
pared for the use of the artists a very fine anatomical figure,
displaying the whole muscular system. Its beauty is really
amazing. It might pass for some flayed demigod, — even a
^larsyas.

Thus, after the example of the ancients, men here study
the human skeleton, not merely as an artistically arranged
series of bones, but rather for the sake of the ligaments Avith
which life and motion are carried on.

When now I tell you, that in the evening we also study
perspective, it must be pretty plain to you that we are not
idle. With aU om- studies, however, we are always hoping
to do more than we ever accomplish.

Rome, January 22, 1787.

Of the artistic sense of Gennans, and of their artistic life,
of these one may well say, — One hears sounds, but they are
not in unison. "WTien now I bethink myself what glorious
objects are in my neighbourhood, and how little I have pro-
fited by them, 1 am almost tempted to despair ; but then
again I console myself with my promised return, when I
hope to be able to understand these master-pieces, around
which now I go groping misei*ably in the dark.

But, in fact, even in Rome itself, there is but little pro-
vision made for one who earnestly wishes to study ai't as a

HOME THE REMOVAL OF AKTIQUES. 391

whole. He must patch it up and put it together for himself out
of eiulless but still gorgeously rich ruins. No doubt but few
only of those who visit Rome, arc piu-ely and earnestly desi-
rous to see and to learn things rightly and thoroughlJ^ They
all foUow, more or less, their own fancies and conceits, and
this is observed by all alike who attend upon the strangers.
Every guide has his own object, every one has his o'UTi
dealer to recommend, his own artist to favom* ; and why
shoidd he not? for does not the inexperienced at once
prize, as most excellent, whatever may be presented to him
as such ?

It woiüd have been a great benefit to the study of art — indeed
a peculiarly rich museum might have been formed — if the
government, (whose permission even at present must be
obtained before any piece of antiqixity can be removed fi'om
the city.) had on such occasions invariably insisted on casts
being delivered to it of the objects removed. Besides, if
any Pope had established such a rule, before long every one
would have opposed all fm-ther removals ; for in a few years
people would have been fi'ightened at the number and value
of the trcasui'es thus carried oif, for which, even now, per-
mission can only be obtained by secret influence.

January 22, 1787.

The representation of the "Aristodemo" has stimulated, in
an especial degree, the patriotism of our German artists, which
hefore was far from being asleep. They never omit an occasion
to speak Avell of my " Iphigenia ;" some passages have from
time to time been again called for, and I have foimd myself
at last compelled to a second reading of the Avliole. And
thus also I have discovered many passages Avhich went ofi"
the tongue more smoothly than they look on the paper.

The favorable report of it has at last soundecl even in the
ears of Reiffenstein and Angelica, who entreated that I should
produce my work once more for their gi'atification. I begged,
however, for a brief respite, though I was obliged to describe to
them, somewhat circmnstantially, the plan and movemeiit of
the plot. The description won the approbation of these person-
ages more even than I could have hoped for ; and Signor
Zucchi also, of whom I least of all expected it, evinced a Avarm

392 XETTEKS FKOM ITALY.

and liberal sjTnpathy witli the piece. The latter circumstance,
however, is easily accounted for by the fact that the drama
approximates very closely to the old and customary- form of
Greek, French, and Italian tragedy, which is most agree-
able to every one whose taste has not been spoilt by the teme-
rities of the English stage.

Rome, Jan. 25, 1787.

It becomes every day more difficult to fix the termination
of my stay in Rome ; ju.st as one finds the sea continually
deeper the fui'ther one sails on it, so it is also with the exa-
mination of this city.

It is impossible to understand the present without a know-
ledge of the past ; and to compare the two, requires both time
and leism-e. The A'ery site of the city canies us back to the
time of its being founded. "SVe see at once that no gi-eat
people, xmder a wise leader, settled here from its wanderings,
and vdth. wise forecast laid the foundations of the seat of futm-e
empire. No powerful prince would ever have selected this spot
as well suited for the habitation of a colony. No ; herdsmen
and vagabonds first prepared here a dwelling for themselves :
a couple of adventm-ous youths laid the foimdation of the
palaces of the masters of the world on the hill at whose foot,
amidst the marshes and the silt, they had defied the officers
of law and justice. Moreover, the seven hills of Rome are not
elevations above the land which lies beyond them, but merely
above the Tiber and its ancient bed, which afterwards became
the Campus ]Martius. K the coming spring is favom^able to
my making wider excursions in the neighbourhood, I shall
be able to describe more fully the unfavourable site. Even
now I feel the most heai-tfelt SA-mjDathy Avith the grief and
lamentation of the women of Alba whey they saw their city
destroyed, and were forced to leave its beautiful site, the
choice of a wise prince and leader, to share the fogs of the
Tiber, and to people the miserable CoeUau hill, fi-om which
their eyes stiU fell upon the paradise they had been di'aAATi
from.

I know as yet but Kttle of the neighbourhood, but I am
perfectlv convinced that no citv* of the ancient world was
worse situated than Rome : no wonder, then, if the Romans,

KOJIE lATHEK JACQUIER. 393

as soon as they had swallowed up all the neighbouring states,
went out of it, and, with their villas, returned to the noble
sites of the cities they had destroyed, in order to live and to
enjoy life.

Rome, Jan. 25, 1787.

It suggests a veiy pleasing contemplation to think how
many people are living here in retirement, calmly occupied
with theh' several tastes and pui-suits. In the house of a
clergyman, who, without any particular natural talent, has
nevertheless devoted himself to the arts, we saw most interest-
ing copies of some excellent paintings which he had imitated
in miniature. His most successful attempt was after the Last
Supper of Leonardo da Vinci. The moment of time is when
the Lord, who is sitting familiarly at supper with his disciples,
utters the awful words, " One of you shall betray me."

Hopes are entertained that he will allow an engraving to
be taken either of this or of another copy, on which he is at
present engaged. It mU be indeed a rich present to give to
the great public a faithful imitation of this gem of art.

A few days since I visited, at the Trinitä de' Monte, Father
Jacquier, a Franciscan. He is a Frenchman by birth, and
well kno-wn by his mathematical writings ; and although far
advanced in years, is still veiy agreeable and intelligent. He
has been acquainted with aU the most distinguished men of
his day, and has even spent several months with Voltaire, who
had a great liking for him.

I have also become acquainted with many more of
such good, sterling men, of whom countless numbers are
to be found here, whom, however, a sort of professional mis-
trust keeps estranged from each other. The book-trade fur-
nishes no point of union, and literary novelties are seldom
fruitful ; and so it befits the solitary to seek out the hermits.
For since the acting of "Aristodemo," in whose favour we made
a very lively demonstration, I have been again much sought
after. But it was quite clear I was not sought for my own
sake ; it was always with a view to strengthen a party — to
use me as an instrument ; and if I had been willing to come
forward and declare my side, I also, as a phantom, should for
a time have played a short part. But now, since they see that

394 DLETTEKS FKOM ITALY.

nothing is to be made of me, they let me pass ; and so I go
steadily on mj^ o^vn way.

Indeed, my existence has lately taken in some ballast, which
gives it the necessary gravity. I do not now frighten myself
with the spectres which used so often to play before my eyes.
Be, therefore, of good heart. You will keep me above water,
and draw me back again to yon.

Rome, Jan. 28, 1787.

Two considerations which more or less affect every thing,
and which one is compelled at every moment to give way to,
I must not fail to set doTSTi, now that they have become quite
clear to me.

First of all, then, the vast and yet merely fragmentary riches
of this city, and each single object of art, is constantly suggest-
ing the question, To what date does it owe its existence ?
Winckelmann urgently calls upon us to separate epochs, to dis-
tinguish the different styles which the several masters employed,
and the way in which, in the coui'se of time, they gradually per-
fected them, and at last corrupted them again. Of the necessity
of so doing, every real friend of art is soon thoroughly convinced.
"We all acknowledge the justice and the importance of the
requisition. But now, how to attain to this conviction r How-
ever clearly and coiTCCtly the notion itself may be conceived,
yet without long preparatory labours there will always be a
degree of vagueness and obsciu-ity as to the particular appli-
cation. A siu'e eye, strengthened by many years' exercise, is
above all else necessary. Here hesitation or reserve are of no
avau. Attention, however, is now directed to this point ; and
everj' one who is in any degree in earnest seems convinced
that in this domain a sm-e judgment is impossible, imless
it has been formed by historical study.

The second consideration refers exclusively to the arts of
the Greeks, and endeavoiu-s to ascertain how those inimitable
artists proceeded in their successful attempts to evolve from
the human lomi their system of cUvine tj^ies, which is so per-
fect and complete, that neither any leading character nor any
intermediate shade or transition is wanting. For my part, I
cannot mthhold the conjectm-e that they proceeded according
to the same laws that Nature works by, and which I am endea-

EOME — THE COLISEX'M. 395

voui'ing to discover. Only, there is in them something more
besides, which it is impossible to express.

Rcmie, Feb. 2, 1787.
Of the beauty of a walk through Rome by moonlight it is
impossible to form a conception, -svithout ha^-ing witnessed it.
All single objects are swallowed up by the great masses of
light and shade, and nothing but gi-and and general outlines
present themselves to the eye. For tlu-ee several days we
have enjoyed to the fiill the brightest and most glorious of
nights. Peculiarly beautiful at such a time is the Coliseum.
At night it is always closed; a hermit dwells in a little
shrine within its range, and beggars of all kinds nestle
beneath its crumbling arches : the latter had lit a fire on the
arena, and a gentle wind bore do'wn the smoke to the gi'ound,
so that the lower portion of the ruins was quite hid by it,
while above the vast walls stood out in deeper darkness
before the eye. As we stopped at the gate to contemplate
the scene through the iron gratings, the moon shone brightly
in the heavens above. Presently the smoke foimd its way up
the sides, and through every chink and opening, while the
moon lit it up like a cloud. The sight was exceedingly glo-
rious. In such a light one ought also to see the Pantheon,
the Capitol, the Portico of St. Peter's, and the other grand
streets and squares: — and thus sun and moon, like the human
mind, have quite a different work to do here from elsewhere,
where the vastest and yet the most elegant of masses present
themselves to their ravs.

Rome, Feb. 13, 1787.
I must mention a tn'fling fall of luck, even though it is but
a little one. However, all luck, whether great or little, is of
one kind, and always brings a joy with it. Near the Trinitä
de" Monte the ground has been lately dug up to fonn a foun-
dation for the new Obelisk, and now the whole of tliis region
is choked up with the ruins of the Gardens of Lucullus, which
subsequently became the property of the Emperors. ^ly peiTU-
quier was passing early one morning by the spot, and found in
the pile of earth a flat piece of burnt clay, with some figm-cs on it.

396 lETTEKS FROM ITALY.

Having washed it, he showed it to me. I eagerly secui-ed
the treasiu-e. It is not quite a hand long, and seems to have
been part of the stem of a great key. Two old men stand
before au altar ; they are of the most beautiful workmanship,
and I am imcommonly delighted with my new acquisition.
Were they on a cameo, one would greatly like to use it as a
seal.

I have by me a collection also of many other objects, and
none is worthless or unmeaning. — for that is impossible ; here
everytliiug is instructive and significant. But my dearest
treasure, however, is even that which I carry with me in my
soul, and which, every growing, is capable of a still greater

STOWth.

Rome, Feb 15, 1787.

Before departing for Naples, I could not get off from
another public reading of my '" Iphigcnia." Madam Angelica
and Ilofrath ReiÖ'enstein were the auditory, and even Signer
Zucchi had solicited to be present, because it was the wish of
his spouse. While it was reading, however, he worked away
at a great architectural plan — for he is very skilful in executing
drawings of this kind, and especially the decorative parts. He
went with Clerisseauto Dalmatia, and was the associate of all his
labours, drawing the buildings and ruins for the plates, which
the latter joublished. In this occupation he learned so much
of perspective and effect, that in his old days he is able to
amuse himself on paper in a very rational manner.

The tender soul of Angelica listened to the pie'ce with in-
credible profomidness of sj-mpathy. She promised me a
drawing of one of the scenes, which I am to keep in re-
membrance of her. And now, just as I am about to quit
Rome, I begin to feel myself tenderly attached to these kind-
hearted people. It is a som-ce of mingled feelings of pleasure
and regret to know that people are son-y to part with you.

Rotne, Feb. 16, 1787.

The safe arrival of " Iphigcnia" has been announced to me

in a most cheering and agreeable way. On my way to the

Opera, a letter from a weU-known hand was brought to me,

—this time doubly welcome, since it was sealed with the

EOME " IPHIGEXI.V '" — " TASSO." 397

" Lion'' a premoniton- token of the safe arrival of my
packet. I hvuTied into the Opera-house, and bustled to get
a place among the strange faces beneath the great chandelier.
At this moment I felt myself drawn so close to my friends,
that I could almost have sprung forward to embrace them.
From my heart I thank you even for having simply mentioned
the arrival of the "Iphigenia." may your next be accom-
panied with a few kind words of approval.

Inclosed is the list of those among whom I wish the copies
which I am to expect from Gosche to be distributed; for
although it is with me a perfect matter of indifference how
the public may receive these matters, still I hope by them
to ftn-nish slight gratification to my friends at least.

One undertakes too much. When I think on my last four
volumes together, I become almost giddy — I am obliged to
think of them separately, and then the fit passes off.

I should perhaps have done better had I kept my first
resolution to send these things one by one into the world, and
so undertake with fresh vigour and courage the new subjects
which have most recently awakened my s^Tupathv. Shovdd
I not. perhaps, do better were I to write the " Iphigenia at
Delphi," instead of amusing myself with my fanciful sketches
of'"Tasso.'' However, I have bestowed upon the latter too
much of my thoughts to give it up, and let it fall to the
ground.

I am sitting in the ante-room near the chimney, and the
•warmth of a fire, for once well fed. gives me courage to com-
mence a fresh sheet, for it is indeed a glorious thing to be
able, with our newest thoughts, to reach into the distance,
and by words to convey thither an idea of one's immediate
state and circumstances. The weather is right glorious, the
days are sensibly lengthening, the laurels and box are in
blossom, as also are the ahnond-trees. Early this morning I
•was delighted -«-ith a strange sight ; I saw in the distance tall,
pole-like trees, covered over and over with the loveliest
violet flowers. On a closer examination I found it was the
plant known in our hothouses as the Judas-ti'ee, and to bota-
nists as the ^' cercis siliquastrum."' Its papilionaceous violet
blossoms are produced directly from out of the stem. The
stakes which I saw had been lopped last winter, and out of
their bark well-shaped and deeply-tinted flowers were bursting

398 LETXEKS FKOM ITALY.

by tliousauds. The daisies are also springing out of the ground
as thick as ants ; the crocus and the pheasant's eye are more
rare, but even on this account more rich and ornamentah

What pleasures and >vhat lessons wiU not the more southern
land impart to me, and what new results will arise to me
i'rom them ! With the things of nature it is as with those of
art ; much as is written about them, every one who sees them
forms them into new combinations for himself.

When I think of Naples, and indeed of Sicily, — when I
read their history, or look at views of them, it strikes me as
singular that it should be even in these paradises of the world
that the volcanic mountains manifest themselves so violently,
for thousands of years alarming and confounding their inha-
bitants.

But I willingly drive out of my head the expectation of
these much-prized scenes, in order that they may not lessen
my enjoyment of the cajjital of the whole world before I
leave it.

For the last fourteen days I have been moving about from
morning to night ; I am raking up everything I have not yet
seen, I am also vieAving for a second or even a thii-d time all
the most important objects, and they are all arranging them-
selves in tolerable order within my mind : for while the
chief objects are taking their right places, there is space and
room between them for many a less important one. My
enthusiasm is purifying itself, and becoming more decided,
and now at last my mind can rise to the height of the
greatest and pm-est creations of art with calm admii'ation.

In my situation one is tempted to envy the artist who, by
copies and imitations of some kind or other can, as it were,
come near to those great conceptions, and can grasp them
better than one who merely looks at and reflects upon them.
In the end, however, every one feels he must do his best ; and
so I set aU the sails of my intellect, in the hope of getting
round this coast.

The stove is at present thoroughly warm, and piled up with
excellent coals, which is seldom the case with us. as no one
scarcely has time or inclination to attend to the fire two
Avhole hom's together; I will therefore avail myself of this
agreeable temperature to rescue from my tablets a few notes
which are almost obliterated.

ROME TASSO'S BUKIAL-PXACE. 399

On the 2nd of February Ave attended the ceremony of
blessing the tapers in the Sistine chapel. I was in anything
but a good humour, and shortly went oif again with my
friends ; for I thought to myself those are the ^-ery candles
which, for these three hundred years, have been dimming
those noble paintings, and it is their smoke which, with priestly
impudence, not merely hangs in clouds around the only sun
of ait, but from year to year obscures it more and more, and
will at last envelop it in total darkness.

We therefore sought the free air, and after a long vralk
came upon S. Onofrio's, in a corner of which Tasso is buried.
In the library of the monastery there is a bust of him, the
face is of -wax, and I please myself with fimcying that it was
taken after death : although the lines have lost some of their
sharpness, and it is in some parts injured, still on the whole
it serves better than any other I have yet seen to convey an
idea of a talented, sensitive, and refined but reserved character.

So much for this time. I must now tm-n to glorious
Volckmann's 2nd part, which contains Rome, and which I
have not yet seen. Before I stait for Naples, the harvest
must be housed; good days are coming for binding the
sheaves.

Home, Feb. 17, 1787.
The weather is incredibly and inexpressibly beautiful; for
the whole of Februaiy, with the exception of four rainv days,
a pure bright sky, and the days towards noon almost too warm.
One is tempted out into the open air, and if till lately one
spent all one's time in the city among gods and heroes, the
comitry has now all at once resumed its rights, and one can
scarcely tear oneself from the surrounding scenes, lit up as
they are with the most glorious days. Many a time does the
remembrance come across me how our northern artists labour
to gain a charm from thatched roofs and ruined towei-s —
how they turn round and round every bush and bom-ne, and
crumbling rock, in the hope of catching some picturesque
effect ; and I have been quite surprised at myself, when I find
these things from habit still retaining a hold upon me. Be
this as it may, however, within these last fomteen days I
have plucked up a little courage, and, sketch-book in hand,
have wandered up and down the hollows and heights of the

400 LETTEKS FKOM ITALY.

neighbouring villas, and, without much consideration, have
sketched off a few little objects characteristically southern
and Roman, and am now trying (if good luck will come to
my aid) to give them the requisite lights and shades.

It is a singular fact, that it is easy enough to clearly see
and to acknowledge what is good and the excellent, but that
when one attempts to make them one's own, and to grasp
them, somehow or other they slip away, as it were, from
between one's fingers ; and we apprehend them, not by the
standard of the true and right, but in accordance with our
previous habits of thought and tastes. It is only by constant
practice that we can hope to improve : but where am I to find
time and a collection of models ? Still I do feel myself a
little improved by the sincere and earnest efforts of the last
fom-teen days.

The artists are ready enough with their hints and instruc-
tions, for I am quick in apprehending them. But then the
lesson so quickly learnt and understood, is not so easily put
in practice. To apprehend quickly is, forsooth, the attribute
of the mind, but correctly to execute that, requires the prac-
tice of a life.

And yet the amateur, however weak may be his efforts at
imitation, need not be discouraged. The few lines which I
scratch upon the paper often hastily, seldom correctly facilitate
any conception of sensible objects ; for one advances to an idea
more sm'cly and more steadily the more accurately and pre-
cisely he considers individual objects.

Only it will not do to measure oneself with artists : every
one must go on in his O'O'n st^le. For Nature has made pro-
vision for all her children : the meanest is not hindered in its
existence even by that of the most excellent. " A little man
is stul a man;'' and with this remark, we will let the matter
drop.

I have seen the sea twice — first the Adriatic, then the
Mediterranean, but only just to look at it. In Naples we
hope to become better acquainted with it. AU within me
seems suddenly to urge me on : why not sooner — why not
at a less sacrifice ? How many thousand things, many quite
new and for the first time, should I not have had to commu-
nicate !

ROME — ITALIAN SKIES. 401

Rome, Feb. 1 7. 1 787.
Ej-ening, after the follies of the Carnival.

I am sorry to go away and leave Moritz alone ; he is going
on "well, but when he is left to himself, he immediately shuts
liimself up and is lost to the world. I have therefore exhorted
him to ■«•rite to Herder : the letter is enclosed. I shoidd wish for
an answer, which may be serviceable and helpful to him.
He is a strange good fellow : he would have been far more so,
had he occasionally met with a friend, sensible and affec-
tionate enough to enlighten him as to his ti'ue state. At
present he coidd not form an acquaintance likely to be more
blessed to him than Herder's, if peiinitted frequently to write
to him. He is at this moment engaged on a very laudable
antiquarian attempt, which well deserves to be encouraged :
Friend Herder could scarcely bestow his cares better nor
sow Ids good ad^•ice in a more grateful soil.

The great portrait of myself which Tischbein has taken in
hand begins already to stand out from the canvass. The
painter has employed a clever statuary to make him a little
model in clay, which is elegantly draperied with the mantle ;
with this he is working away diligently, for it must, he
says, be brought to a certain point before we set out for
Naples, and it takes no little time merely to cover so large a
field of canvass with colours.

Rome, Feb. 19, 1787.

The weather continues to be finer than words can express.
This has been a day miserably wasted among fools. At night-
fall I betook myself to the Villa Medici. A new moon has
just shone upon us, and below the slender crescent I could
with the naked eye discern almost the whole of the dark disc
through the perspective. Over the earth hangs that haze of
the day which the paintings of Claude have rendered so well
known. In Nature, however, the phenomenon is perhaps no-
where so beautiful as it is here. Flowers are now springing
out of the earth, and the trees putting forth blossoms which
hitherto I have been vmacquainted with ; the almonds are in
blossom, and between the dark-green oaks they make an appear-
ance as beautiful as it is new to me. The sky is like a bright
blue taffeta in the sunshine ; what will it be in Naples ?
Almost everj-thing here is already green. My botanical

Vol. II. 2 d

402 LETTERS EKOM ITALY.

whims gain food and strength from all around ; and I am on
the -way to discover new and beautiful relations by means of
which Nature — that vast prodigy, which yet is nowhere
visible — evolves the most manifold varieties out of the most
simple.

Vesuvius is throwing out both ashes and stones ; in the
evening its summit appears to glow. May travailing Nature
only favoui- us with a sti-eam of lava. I can scarcely endure to
wait till it shall be really my lot to witness such grand

phenomena.

Rome, Feh 21, 1787.

Ash Wednesday.

The folly is now at an end. The countless lights of yester-
day evening were, however, a strange spectacle. One must
have seen the Carnival in Rome to get entirely rid of the
wish to see it again. Nothing can be written of it : as a
subject of conversation it may be amusing enough. The
most unpleasant feeling about it is, that real internal joy is
wanting — there is a lack of money, Avhich prevents them en-
joying the morsel of pleasure, which otherwise they might
still feel in it. The great are economical, and hold back ;
those of the middle ranks are without the means, and the
populace without spring or elasticity. In the last days there
was an incredible tumult, but no heartfelt joy. The sky, so
infinitely fine and clear, looked down nobly and innocently
upon the mummeries.

However, as imitation is out of the question, and cannot
be thought of here, I send you, to amuse the childi-en, some
di-awings of carnival masks, and some ancient Roman cos-
tumes, which are also colom-ed, as they may serve to supply
a missing chapter in the " Orbis Pictus."

Rome, Feh. 21, 1787.
I snatch a few moments in the intervals of packing, to
mention some particulars which I have hitherto omitted.
To-morrow we set off for Naples. I am already delighting
myself with the new scenery, which I promise myself will
be inexpressibly beautifiü ; and hope in this paradise of nature,
to win fresh freedom and pleasm-e for the study of ancient
art, on my return to sober Rome.
"Packing vip is light work to me, since I can now do it

HOME THE " TASSO." 403

with a merrier heart than I had some six months ago, when I had
to tear myself from all that was most dear and precious to
me. Yes, it is now a full half year since ; and of the four
months I have spent in Rome, not a moment has been lost.
The boast may soimd big; nevertheless, it does not say too
much.

That " Iphigenia" has arrived, I know, — may, I leani at the
foot of Vesuvius that it has met with a hearty welcome.

That Tischbein, who possesses as glorious an eye for
nature as for art, is to accompany me on tliis joui'ney, is
to me the subject of great cougratiüation : still, as genuine
Germans, we cannot throw aside all purposes and thoughts
of work. "We have bought the best of drawing-paper, and
we intend to sketch away; although, in all probability,
the multitude, the beauty, and the splendour of the objects,
\n\\ choke our good intentions.

One conquest I have gained over myself. Of all my un-
finished poetical works I shall take^^with me none but the
"Tasso," of which I have the best hopes. If I could only know
what you are now saying to "'Iphigenia," yom* remarks might
be some guide to me in my present labours ; for the plan of
"Tasso" isveiy simuar ; the subject stiU more confined, and
in its several parts wul be even stiU more elaborately finished.
Stdl I cannot tell as yet what it will eventually prove. What
akeady exists of it must be destroyed ; it is, perhaps, somewhat
tediously dl•a^^^l out, and neither the characters nor the plot, nor
the tone of it, are at all in harmony with my present views.

In making a clearance I have fallen upon some of yom*
letters, and in reading them over I have just lighted upon a
reproach, that in my letters I contradict myself. It may be so,
but I was not aware of it ; for as soon as I have written a
letter I immediately send it off : I must, however, confess
that nothing seems to me more hkely, for I have lately been
tossed about by mighty spirits, and therefore it is qiiite
natui'al if at times I know not where I am standing.

A story is told of a skipper, who, overtaken at sea by a
stormy night, determined to steer for port. His little boy,
who in the dark was crouching by him, asked him, " What
siUy Ught is that which I see — at one time above us and at
another below us?" His father promised to explain it to him
some other day; and then he told him that it was the beacon
2d 2

404 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

of the lighthouse, which, to the eye now raised, now depressed,
by the wikl waves, appeared accordingly sometimes above
and sometimes below. I too am steering on a passion-tossed
sea for the harbour, and if I can only manage to hold steadily
in my eye the gleam of the beacon, however it may seem to
change its place, I shall at last enjoy the wished for shore.

When one is on the eve of a departure, every earlier separa-
tion, and also that last one of all, and which is yet to be, comes
involuntarily into one's thoughts ; and so, on this occasion, the
reflection enforces itself on my mind more strongly than ever,
that man is always making far too great and too many prepa-
rations for life. For we, for instance — Tischbein and I, that is
— must soon turn our backs upon many a precious and glorious
object, and even upon our well-furnished museum. In it there
are now standing three gems for comparison, side by side, and
yet we part from them as though they were not.

NAPLES.

Velletri, Feh. 22, 1787.

We arrived here in good time. The day before yesterday
the weather became gloomy; and our fine days were overcast:
still some signs of the aii- seemed to promise that it would
soon clear up again, and so indeed it turned out. The clouds
gradually broke, here and there appeared the blue sky, and
at last the sun shone full on our journey. We came through
Albano, after having stoj^ped before Genzano, at the entrance
of a park, which the owner. Prince Chigi, in a very strange
way holds, but does not keep up, on which account he will
not allow any one to enter it. In it a true wilderness ha.s
been formed. Trees and shrubs, plants and weeds grow,
wither, fall, and rot at pleasure. That is all right, and
indeed could not be better. The expanse before the entrance is
inexpressibly fine. A high wall encloses the valley, a lattice-
gate affords a view into it; then the hill ascends, upon which,
above you, stands the castle.

But now I dare not attempt to go on with the description ;
and I can merely say, that at the very moment when from
the summit we caught sight of the mountains of Sezza, the
Pontine Marshes, the sea and its islands, a heavy passing

TELLETKI A TRICK UPOX TKAVELLERS. 405

sliower was traversing the Älarslies towards the sea, and
the light and shade, constantly changing and moving, won-
derfully enlivened and variegated the dreary plain. The
effect was beautifully heightened by the sun's beams which
lit up with various hues, the columns of smoke as they ascended
from scattered and scarcely visible cottages.

Velletri is agreeably situated on a volcanic hill, which,
towards the north alone, is connected with other hills, and
towards three points of the heavens commands a wide and
xminterrupted prospect.

We here visited the Cabinet of the CavaHere Borgia, who,
favoured by his relationship with the Cardinal has managed,
by means of the Propaganda, to collect some valuable antiqui-
ties and other curiosities. yEgyptian charms, idols cut out
of the very hardest rock, some small figures in metal, of
earlier or later dates, some pieces of statuary of burnt clay,
Avith figm-es in low relief, which were dug up in the neigh-
bourhood, and on the authority of which one is almost
tempted to ascribe to the ancient indigenous popiüation a
style of their own in art.

Of other kinds of varieties there are numerous specimens
in this museum. I noticed two Chinese black-painted boxes;
on the sides of one there was delineated the whole manage-
ment of the silk- worm, and on the other the cultivation of
rice : both subjects were very nicely conceived, and worked out
with the utmost minuteness. Both the boxes and their covers
are eminently beautiful, and, as well as the book in the
library of the Propaganda, which I have already praised, are
well worth seeing.

It is certainly inexplicable that these treasures should be
within so short a distance of Rome, and yet should not be
more frequently visited ; but perhaps the difficulty and incon-
venience of getting to these regions, and the attraction of the
magic circle of Rome, may serve to excuse the fact. As we
arrived at the inn, some women, who were sitting before the
doors of their houses, called out to us, and asked if we
wished to buy any antiquities; and then, as we showed a
pretty strong hankering after them, they brought out some
old kettles, fire-tongs, and such like utensils, and were ready
to die with laughing at having made fools of us. When we
seemed a little put out, om- guide assured us, to our comfort.

406 LETTEKS FKOM ITALY.

that it "was a customaiy joke, and that all strangers had to
submit to it.

I am -«Titing tlüs in a very miserable auberge, and feel
neither strength nor humour to make it any longer : therefore
I must bid you a veiy good night.

Foncli, Feh. 23, 1787.

We were on the road verj- early, — by thi-ce in the morning.
As the day broke we foimd ourselves on the Pontine Mai-shes,
which have not by any means so ill an appearance as the
common description in Rome would make out. Of course, by
merely once passing over the marshes, it is not possible to
judge of so gi'eat an undertaking as that of the intended
draining of them, which necessai'ily requires time to test its
merits ; still it does appear to me, that the works which have
commenced by the Pope's orders, will, to a great extent at
least, attain the desired end. Conceive to yom-self a wide valley,
which, as it stretches fi-om north to south, has but a veiy slight
fall, but which towards the east and the mountains is extremely
low. but rises again considerably towards the sea on the west.
Kimning in a straight line through the whole length of it.
the ancient Via Appia has been restored. On the right of
the latter the principal di'ain has been cut. and in it the water
flows with a rapid faU. By means of it the ti-act of land to
the right has been drained, and is now profitably ciütivated.
As far as the eye can see, it is either already brought into
cultivation or e-sddently might be so, if farmers could be
found to take it, with the exception of one spot, which Lies
extremely low.

Tlie left side, which stretches towards the moimtains, is
more difficult to be managed. Here, however, cross-drains pass
under the raised way into the cliief drain ; as, however, the
surface sinks again towards the moimtains. it is impossible
by this means to caiTy off the water entirely. To meet this
difficulty it is proposed. I was told, to cut another leading
di'ain along the foot of the mountains. Large patches, espe-
cially towards Terracina, are thinly planted with willows and
poplars.

The posting stations consist mei'ely of long thatched sheds.
Tischbein sketched one of them, and enjoyed for his reward a
giatification which only he coidd enjoy. A white horse having

THE PONTINE MAESHES. 407

broke loose had fled to tlie di-ained lauds. Enjoying its liberty,
it was galloping backwards and forwards on the bro^\Ti turf
like a flash of lightning ; in truth it was a glorious sight,
rendered significant by Tischbein"« raptui'e.

At the point where the ancient village of !Meza once stood,
the Pope has caused to be built a large and fine buuding, which
indicates the centre of the level. The sight of it increases one's
hopes and confidence of the success of the whole undertaking.
While thus we travelled on, we kept up a lively conversation to-
gether, not forgetting the warning, that on this journey one
must not go to sleep ; and, in fact, we were strongly enough
reminded of the danger of the atmosphere, by the blue
vapour which, even in this season of the year, hangs above the
groimd. On this account the more dehghtful, as it was the
more longed for, was the rocky site of Terracina ; and scarcely
had we congratulated ourselves at the sight of it, than we
caught a view of the sea beyond. Immediately afterwards the
other side of the mountain city presented to our eye a vege-
tation quite new to us. The Indian figs were pushing theh*
large fleshy leaves amidst the gray green of dwarf myrtles,
the yellowish green of the pomegranate, and the pale gi-een
of the olive. As we passed along, we noticed both flowers
and shrubs quite new to us. On the meadows the narcissus
and the adonis were in flower. For a long time the sea was
on our right, while close to us on the left ran an unbroken
range of limestone rocks. It is a continuation of the x\pen-
nines, which runs doM-n from TivoH and touches the sea,
which it docs not leave again till you reach the Campagna di
Romana, Avhere it is succeeded by the volcanic fonnations of
Frescati, Alba, and Yelletri, and lastly by the Pontine
Marshes. Monte Circello, with the opposite promontory of
Ten-acina, where the Pontine Marshes terminate, in all pro-
bability consists also of a system of chalk rocks.

We left the sea coast, and soon reached the charming plain
of Fondi. Every one must admire this little spot of fertile
and well cultivated land, enclosed with hills, which them-
selves are by no means wüd. Oranges, in great numbers, are
still hanging on the trees ; the crops, all of wheat, are beau-
tifully green ; oUves are gro^^^ng in the fields, and the little
city is in the bottom. A palm tree, which stood out a marked
object in the scenery, received om- greetings. So much for

408 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

this evening. Pardon the scrawl. I must ^vrite without
thinking, for writing sake. The objects are too numerous,
my resting place too wretched, and yet my desire to commit
something to paper too great. With nightfall we reached
tliis place, and it is now time to go to rest.

S. Agata, Feb. 24, 1787.

Althouga in a WTetchedly cold chamber, I must yet try and
give you some account of a beautiful day. It was already
nearly light when we drove out of Fondi, and we M'ere forth-
with greeted by the orange trees which hang over the walls
on both sides of our road. The trees are loaded with such
numbers as can only be imagined and not expressed. Towards
the top the young leaf is yellowish, but below and in the
middle, of sajjpy green. Mignon was quite right to long
for them. '

After this we travelled ilu-ough clean and well-worked fields
of wheat, planted at convenient distances with olive-trees.
A soft breeze was moving, and brought to the light the silvery
under-surface of the leaves, as the branches swayed gently
and elegantly. It was a gray morning ; a north wind pro-
mised soon to dispel all the clouds.

Then the road entered a valley between stony but well-
dressed fields ; the crops of the most beautiful green. At cer-
tain spots one saw some roomy places, paved, and surrounded
Avith low walls ; on these the corn, which is never carried home
in sheaves, is thrashed out at once. The valley gradually
narrows, and the road becomes mountainous, bare rocks of
limestone standing on both sides of us. A violent storm
followed us, with a fall of sleet, which thawed very slowly.

The walls, of an ancient style, built after the pattern
of net- work, charmed us exceedingly. On the heights
the soil is rocky, but nevertheless planted with olive-trees
wherever there is the smallest patch of soil to receive them.
Next we drove over a plain covered with olive-trees, and then
through a small town. We here noticed altars, ancient tomb-
stones, and fragments of every kind built up in the ANalls of
the pleasure-houses in the gardens. Then the lower stories
of ancient villas, once excellently built, but now filled up

S. AGATA. 409

with earth, and overgrowii with olives. At last we caught
a sight of Vesuvius, with a cloud of smoke resting on its
brow.

]\Iolo di Gäeta greeted us again with the richest of orange-
trees ; we remained there some houi-s. The creek before the
town, which the tide flows up to, affords one the finest
of views. Following the line of coast, on the right, tiU the eye
reaches at last the horn of the crescent, one sees at a mode-
rate distance the fortress of Gäeta on the rocks. The left
horn stretches out still fiu'ther, presenting to the beholder
first of all aline of movm tains, then Vesuvius, and, beyond
all, the islands. Ischia lies before you nearly in the centre.

On the shore here I foimd, for the first time in my life, a
starfish, and an echinus thro'mi up by the sea ; a beautiful
green leaf, {tethys foliacea), smooth as the finest bath paper,
and other remarkable rubble-stones, the most common being
limestone, but occasionally also serpentine, jasper, quartz,
granite, breccian pebbles, porphyiy, marble of different
kinds, and glass of a blue and green colomr. The two last-
mentioned specimens are scarcely productions of the neigh-
bourhood. They are probably the debris of ancient buildings ;
and thus we have seen the waves before our eyes playing with
the splendours of the ancient world. We tarried awhile, and
pleased ourselves with meditating on the nature of man, whose
hopes, whether in the civilized or savage state, are so soon
disappointed.

Departing from Molo, a beautiful prospect still accompa-
nies the traveller, even after his quitting the sea ; the last
glimpse of it was a lovely bay, of which we took a sketch. We
now came upon a good fruit country, with hedges of aloes.
We noticed an aqueduct which ran from the moimtains over
some nameless and orderless masses of ruins.

Next comes the feiry over the Garigliano ; after crossing it
one passes through tolerably fruitfid districts, till we reach
the mountains. Nothing striking. At length, the first hill of
lava. Here begins an extensive and glorious district of hill
and vale, over which the snowy summits are towering in the
distance. On the nearest eminence lies a long town, which
strikes the eye with an agreeable effect. In the valley lies
S. Agata, a considerable inn, where a cheerful fire was
bui-ning in a cliinmey arranged as a cabinet ; however, our

410 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

room is cold — no -w-mdow, only shutters, which. I am just
hastening to close.

Naples, Feh. 2<5, 1787.

And here we are happily ai-rived at last, and with good
omens enough. Of our day's journey thus much only. We
left S. Agata with sunrise, a violent north-east wind blow-
ing on our backs, which continued the Avhole day through.
It was not till noon that it was master of the clouds. We
suffered much from the cold.

Our road again lay among and over volcanic hills, among
which I did not notice many limestone rocks. At last we
reached the plains of Capua, and shortly afterwai'ds Capua
itself, where we halted at noon. In the afternoon a beautiful
but flat region lay stretched before us ; the road is broad,
and runs thi-ough fields of green com, so even that it looked
like a carpet, and was at least a span high. Along the fields
ai'e planted rows of poplars, from which the branches are
lopped to a great height, that the vines may run up them ;
this is the case all the way to Naples. The soil is excellent,
light, loose, and well worked. The vine stocks ai'e of extra-
ordinaiy strength and height, and theii- shoots hang in festoons
like nets from tree to tree.

Vesuvius was all the while on our left with a strong smoke,
and I felt a quiet joy to think that at last I beheld with vny
own eyes this most remarkable object. The sky became
clearer and clearer, and at length the sun shone quite hot into
our narrow roUing lodging. The atmosphere was perfectly
clear and bright as we approached Naples, and we now found
ourselves, in truth, in quite another world. The houses,
with flat roofs, at once bespeak a difierent climate ; inwai'dly,
perhaps, they may not be veiy comfortable. Every one is
in the streets, or sitting in the sun as long as it shines. The
Neapohtan believes himself to be in possession of Paradise,
and entertains a very melancholy opinion of our northern
lands. Sempre neve, caso di legno, gran ignoranza., ma
danari assai. Such is the picture they di-aw of our condition.
Interpreted for the benefit of aU our German folk, it means —
Always snow, wooden houses, gi'eat ignorance, but money
enough.

NAPLES MY rODGINGS. 411

Naples at first sight leaves a free, cheerful, and lively
impression ; numberless beings are passing and repassing
each other : the king is gone hunting, the c^een promising ;
and so things could not be better.

Naples, 31o7iday, Feh. 26, 1787.

" Alia Locanda del Sgr. 3Ioriconi al Largo del CasteUo."
Under this addi'ess, no less cheerful than high-soimding,
letters from all the four quarters of heaven will henceforth
find us. Round the castle, which Hes by the sea, there
stretches a large open space, which, although suiTounded on
all sides with houses, is not called a square or jfjm::^«, but a
largo, or expanse. Perhaps the name is derived from
ancient times, when it was stul an open and unenclosed
country. Here, in a comer house on one side of the Largo,
we have taken up our lodgings in a corner room, which
commands a free and lively A'icw of the ever mo^-ing surface.
An iron balcony nms before several windows, and even round
the comer. One woidd never leave it, if the shai-p wind
were not extremely cutting.

The room is cheerfidly decorated, especially the ceiling,
whose arabasques of a hundred compartments bear witness to
the proximity of Pompeii and Herciuaneum. Now, all this is
very weU and verj' fine ; but there is no fire-place, no
chimney, and yet February exercises even here its rights.
I expressed a wish for something to warm me. They brought
in a tripod of sufficient height from the groiuid for one con-
veniently to hold one"s hands over it ; on it was placed a
shallow brazier, full of extremely fine charcoal red-hot, but
covered smoothly over with ashes. We now found it an
advantage to be able to manage this process of domestic
economj' ; we had learned that at Rome. With the ring of
a key, from time to time, one cautiously draws away the
ashes of the surface, so that a few of the embers may be ex-
posed to the fr-ee air. Were you impatiently to stir up the
glowing coals, you woidd no doubt experience for a fevv'
moments gi'cat warmth, but you woidd in a short time exhaust
the fuel, and then you must pay a certain sum to Ixoxe the
brasier filled again.

412 LETTEES FKOM ITALY.

I did not feel quite well, and could have Avishcd for more
of ease and comfort. A reed matting wa.s all there was to
protect one's feet from the stone floor ; skins are not
usual. I determined to put on a sailor's cloak which we had
brought with us in fun, and it did me good service, especially
when I tied it round my body with the rope of my box. I
must have looked very comical, something between a sauor
and a capuchin. When Tischbein came back from ^-isiting
some of his friends, and found me in this diTSS, he could not
refrain from lauo-hinsr.

Xaples, Feb. 27, 1787.
Yesterday I kept quietly at home, in order to get rid of a
slight bodily ailment. To-day has been a regiilar carouse,
and the time passed rapidly whue we ^'isited the most
glorious of objects. Let man talk, describe and paint as he
may — to be here is more than aU. The shore, the creeks, and
the bay, Vesuvius, the city, the suburbs, the castles, the
atmosphere ! In the evening, too, we went into the Grotto
of Posüippo, while the setting sun was shining into it from
the other side. I can pardon all who lose their senses in
Naples, and remember with emotion my father, who retained
to the last an indelible impression of those objects which
to-day I have cast eyes upon for the fii'st time. Just as it is
said, that people Avho have once seen a ghost, are never after-
wards seen to smile, so in the opposite sense it may be said
of him, that he never could become perfectly miserable, so
long as he remembered Naples. According to my fashion,
I am quite still and cahn, and when anything happens too
absm-d, only make large — large eyes.

Xaples, Feb. 28, 1787.
To-day we visited Philip Hackert, the famous landscape-
painter, who enjoys the special confidence and peculiar favour
of the king and the queen. A wing of the palace Franca
Villa has been assigned to him, which, having fm-uished it
with true artistic taste, he feels great satisfaction in in-
habiting. He is a very precise and prudent personage,
who, with imtiring industn% manages, nevertheless, to enjoy
life.

XAPLES — THE PllINCE VOX WALDECK. 413

After that we took a sail, and saw all kinds of fish and
wonderful shapes drawn out of the waves. The day was
glorious; the tramontaiie (north winds) tolerable.

Naples, March 1, 1787.

Even in Rome my self-wuled hermit-like humour was
forced to assume a more social aspect than I altogether liked :
no doubt it appears a strange beginning to go into the
world in order to be alone. Accordingly I could not resist
Prince von Waldeck, who most kindly invited me, and by
his rank and influence has procured me the enjoj-raent of
manv privileges. We had scarcely reached Najjles, where
he has been residing a long while, when he sent us an in^-ita-
tion to pay a visit with him to Puzzuoli and the neighbourhood.
I was thinking already of Vesuvius for to-day; but Tischbein
has forced me to take this journey, which, agreeable enough
of itself, promises from the fine weather, and the society of
a perfect gentleman, and well-educated prince, very much
both of pleasure and profit. "We had also seen in Rome a
beautiful lady, who with her husband, is inscpai-able fi-om the
Piince. She also is to be of the party ; and we hope for a
most delightful day.

Moreover, I was intimately known to this noble society,
ha^dng met them previously. The Prince, upon our first
acquaintance, had asked me what I was then busy with ; and
the plan of my " Iphigenia" was so fresh in my recollection, that
I was able one evening to relate it to them circumstantially.
They entered into it ; still, stiU I fancied I could observe that
something livelier and wilder was expected of me.

Evening.
It would bo difiicult to give an account of this day. How
often has the cursory- reading of a book, which irresistibly
carries one with it, exercised the greatest influence on a man's
whole life, and produced at once a decisive effect, which neither
a second perusal nor earnest reflection can either strengthen
or modify. This I experienced in the case of the " Sakuntala" ;
and do not great men affect us somewhat in the same way ? A
sail to Puzzuoli, little trips by land, cheerful walks through
the most wonderful regions in the world ! Beneath the purest

414 XETTEES from: ITALY,

sky the most treacherous soil ; ruins of inconceivable opulence,
oppressive, and saddening ; boiling waters, clefts exhaling sid-
phur, rocks of slag defying vegetable life, bare forbidding
tracts, and then at last on all sides the most luxvu-iant vege-
tation seizing every spot and cranny possible, running over
eveiy lifeless object, edging the lakes and brooks, and nom*-
ishing a glorious wood of oak on the brinlc of an ancient
crater !

And thus one is diiven backwards and forwards between
nature and the history of nations ; one wishes.to meditate, and
soon feels himself quite unfit for it. In the mean time, how-
ever, the living lives on merrily, with a joyousness which we
too would share. Educated persons, belonging to the world and
the world's ways, but warned by serious events, become, never-
theless, disposed for reflection. A boundless view of earth,
sea, and sky, — and then called away to the side of a young and
amiable lady, accustomed and delighted to receive homage.

Amidst all this giddy excitement, however, I failed not
to make many notes. The futm-e reduction of these will be
greatly facilitated by the map we consulted on the spot, and
by a hasty sketch of Tischbein's. To-day it is not possible for
me to make the least addition to these.

March 2.
Thursday I ascended Vesuvius, although the weather was
unsettled, and the summit of the mountain sm-roiuided by
clouds. I took a carriage as far as Resina, and then, on the
back of a mule, began the ascent, having \ineyards on both
sides. Next, on foot, I crossed the lava of the year '71, on the
surface of wliich a fine but compact moss was abeady growing ;
then upwards on the side of the lava. The hut of the hermit
on the height, was on my left hand. After this we climbed the
Ash- hül, wliich is wearisome walking; two-thirds of the sxmi-
mit were enveloped in clouds. At last we reached the ancient
•crater, now filled up, where we found recent lava, only two
months and fom-tcen days old, and also a slight streak of only
five days, which was, however, ah-eady cold. Passing over
these, we next ascended a height which had been throv/n up
by volcanic action ; it was smoking from all its points. As
the smoke rolled away from us, I essayed to approach the
crater ; scarcely, however, had we taken fifty steps in

>"APLES — VESUVIUS. 415

the steam, when it became so dense that I could scarcelv
see my shoes. It was to no pm-pose that we held smiff
continually before om- nostrils. My guide had disappeai-ed ;
and the footing on the lava lately thro^vn up was very unsteady.
I therefore thought it right to tur ound, and to reserve
the sight for a finer day, and for less of smoke. However, I
now know how difficult it is to breathe in such an atmosphere.

Otherwise, the moimtain was quite stUl. There was no
flame, no roaring, no stones thi-o-mi up — all which it usually
does at most times. I reconnoitered it well, vrith the intention
of regularly storming it as soon as the weather shall improve.

The specimens of lava that I foimd, were mostly of well-
known kinds. I noticed, however, a phenomenon which
appeared to me extremely sti'ange, which I intend to examine
again still more closely, and also to consult connoisseurs and
collectors upon it. It is a stalactite incrustation of a part of
the volcanic fimnel, which has been tlu'O'^Ti down, and now
rears itself in the centre of the old choked- up crater. This mass
of solid greyish stalactite appears to have been formed by the
sublimation of the very finest volcanic evaporation, without the
co-operation of either moisture or fusion. It wüi fiu-nish
occasion for fiulher thinking.

To-day. the 3rd of March, the sky is covered with clouds,
and a sirocco is blowing. For post-day, good weather.

A very strange medley of men, beautifid houses, and most
singular fishes are here to be seen in abundance.

Of the situation of the cit\% and of its glories, which have
been so often described and commended, not a word from me.
*' Vede Napoli e poi muori,'^ is the cry hero. " See Naples,

and die."

Naples, March 0, 1787.

That no Neapolitan will allow the merits of his city to be
questioned, that theii- poets should sing in extravagant h^-per-
bole of the blessings of its site, ai"e not matters to quarrel
about, even though a paii* of Vesuviuses stood in its neighbour-
hood. Here one can almost cast aside all remembrances, even
of Rome. As compared with this free, open situation, the
capital of the world, in the basin of the Tiber, looks like a
cloister bidlt on a bad site.

The sea, with its vessels, and their destinations, presents
wholly new matters for reflection. The frigate for Palermo

416 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

started yesterday, with a strong, direct, north wind. This time
it certainly will not be more than six-and-thirty hours on the
passage. With what longing did I not watch the full sails as
the vessel passed between Capri and Cape Minerva, until at
last it disappeared. Who could see one's beloved thus sailing
away and survive ? The sirocco (south wind) is now blowing ;
if the wind becomes stronger, the breakers over the Mole will
be glorious.

To-day being Friday, is the grand promenade of the nobi-
lity, when every one displays his equipages, and especially his
stud. It is almost impossible to see finer horses anywhere
than in Naples. For the first time in my life I have felt an
interest in these animals.

Naples, March 3,-l787.

Here you have a few leaves, as reporters of the enter-
tainment I have met with in this place ; also a corner
of the cover of your letter, stained with smoke, in testi-
mony of its having been with me on Vesuvius. You must
not, however, fancy, either in your waking thoughts or in
your dreams, that I am surrounded by perils ; be assured
that wherever I venture, there is no more danger than on the
road to Belvedere. The earth is everywhere the Lord"s ; may
be well said in reference to such objects. I never seek
adventure out of a mere rage for singularity ; but even because
I am most cool, and can catch at a glance, the peculiarities of
any object, I may well do and venture more than many others.
The passage to Sicily is anything but dangerous. A few days
ago, the frigate sailed for Palermo with a favorable breeze
from the north, and, leaving Capri on the right, has, no doubt,
accomplished the voyage in six-and-thirty hours. In all such
expeditions, one finds the danger to be far less in reality than,
at a distance, one is apt to imagine.

Of earthquakes, there is not at present a vestige in Lower
Italy ; in the upper provinces Rimini and its neighbourhood
has lately suffered. Thus the earth has strange humours, and
people talk of earthquakes here just as we do of wind and
weather, and as in Thuringia they talk of conflagrations.

I am delighted to find that you are now familiar with the
two editions of my " Iphigenia," but still more pleased should I
be had you been more sensible of the difference between them.

XAPLES FILAXGIERI. 417

I know what I have done for it, and may well speak thercoi",
since I feel that I could make stiU further improvements. If it
be a bliss to enjoy the good, it is still greater happiness to dis-
cern the better ; for in art the best only is good enough.

Naples, March 5, 1787.

We spent the second Sunday of Lent in visiting church
after church. As in Rome all is highly solemn ; so here every
houi- is merry and cheerful. The Neapolitan school of 2)aiutiiig,
too, can only be understood in Naples. One is astonished to
see the whole fi'ont of a church j^ainted from top to bottom.
Over the door of one, Christ is driving out of the temple the
buyers and sellers, who, terribly frightened, are nimbly hud-
dling up their wares, and hurrv^ing down the steps on both
sides. In another chiu'ch, there is a room over the entrance,
which is richly ornamented ^^'ith frescoes representing the
deprivation of Heliodorus. ••' Luca Giordano must indeed have
painted rapidly, to fill such large areas in a hfetime. The
pulpit, too, is here not always a mere cathedra, as it is in other
places, — a place where one only may teach at a time : but a
gaUeiy. Along one of these I once saw a Capuchin walking
backwards and forwards, and, no^v from one end, now from
another, reproaching the people with their sins. Vv'hat had
he not to tcU them !

But neither to be told nor to be described is the glory of
a night of the full moon such as we have enjoyed here, wan-
dering thi'ough the streets and squares and on the quay, with
its long promenade, and then backwards and forwards on the
beach ; one felt reaUy possessed with the feeling of the infinity
of space. So to dream is really worth all ti'ouble.

Naples, March 5, 1787.
I made to-day the acquaintance of an excellent indi%idual,
and I must briefly give you a general description of him. It
is the Chevalier Filangieri, famous for his work on Icgislatior:.
He belongs to those noble young men who wish to promote the
happiness and the moderate liberty of mankind. In his bearing

* Heliodorus, Bishop of Tricca, in Thessaly, in the fourth century, author
of the " CEthiopics, or, the Amours of Theagenes and Chariclea," was,
iti? snid, deprived of his bishopric for writing this work. — A. W. M.

Vol. II. 2 e

418 lETTEUS FK.0:M ITALY.

you recognise at once the soldier, the chevalier, and the man
of the world ; but this appearance is softened by an expres-
sion of tender moral seasibiUty, which is diffused over his
whole countenance, and shines forth most agreeably in his
character and conversation ; he is, moreover, heartily at-
tached to his sovereign and country, even though he cannot
approve of all that goes on. He is also oppressed with a
fear of Joseph II. The idea of a despot, even though it only
floats as a phantom in the air, excites the apprehensions of
every noble-minded man. He spoke to me without resers'e,
of what Naples had to fear from him ; but in particular he
wasdehghted to speak of jSIontesquieu, Beccaria, and of some
of his own writings — all in the same spirit of the best will, and
of a heart full of youthful enthusiasm to do good. And yet he
may one day be classed with the Thii-ty. He has also made me
acquainted with an old writer, from whose inexhaustible depths
these new Italian friends of legislation derive intense encou-
ragement and edification. He is called Giambattista Vico, and
is prefeiTed even to Montesquieu. After a hasty perusal of his
book, which was lent to me as a sacred deposit, I laid it
down, saying to myself, Here are sybiUine anticipations of
good and right, which once must, or ought to be, realised,
drawn apparently from a serious contemplation both of the
past and of the present. It is well when a nation possesses
such a forefather : the Germans wül one day receive a similar
codex from Hamann.

Naples, March 6, 1787.

Most reluctantly, yet, for the sake of good-fellowship, Tisch-
bein accompanied me to-day to Vesuvius. To him — the artist
of form, who concerns himself with none but the most beau-
tiful of human and animal shapes, and one also whose taste
and judgment lead to humanise even the formless rock and
landscape, — such a frightful and shapeless conglomeration of
matter, which, moreover, is continually preying on itself, and
proclaiming war against every idea of the beautiful, must have
appeared utterly abominable.

We started in two caleches, as v/e did not trust ourselves to
drive through the crowd and whirl of the city. The drivers kept
up an incessant shouting at the top of their voice whenever don-
keys with their loads of wood or rubbish, or rolling caleches

NAPLES ASCENI OF VESUVIUS. 419

raet US, or else warning the porters "with theii* bui'dens, or
other pedestrians, whether children or old people to get out
of the way. All the while, however, they di'ove at a sharp
trot, without the least stop or check.

As you get into the remoter suburbs and gardens, the
road soon begins to show signs of a Plutonic action. For
as we had not had rain for a long time, the natm-ally ever-
green leaves were covered with a thick gray and ashy dust ;
so that the glorious blue sky, and the scorching sun which
shone do^vn upon us, were the only signs that we were still
among the living.

At the foot of the steep ascent, we were received by two
guides, one old, the other young, but both active fellows.
The first pulled me up the path, the other Tischbein,—
pulled I say, for these guides are girded round the waist
with a leathern belt, which the traveller takes hold of, and
being di-awn up by his guide, makes his way the easier Avith foot
and staff. In this manner we reached the flat from which the
cone rises : towards the north lay the ruins of the Somma.

A glance westwards over the country beneath us, removed,
as well as a bath could, all feeling of exhaustion and fatigue, and
we now went round the ever-smoking cone, as it threw out its
stones and ashes. Wherever the space allowed of our viewing
it at a sufficient distance, it appeared a grand and elevatiug
spectacle. In the first place, a violent tliuudering toned forth
from its deepest abyss, then stones of larger and smaller sizes
were showered into the air by thousands, and enveloped bv clouds
of ashes. The greatest part fell again into the gorge ; the rest
of the fi-agments, receiving a lateral inclination, and falling on
the outside of the crater, made a marvellous rumbling noise.
First of all the larger masses plumped against the side, and
rebounded Avith a dull licaAy sound ; then the smaller came
rattling do-mi ; and last of all, drizzled a shower of ashes.
All this took place at regular intervals, which by slowly count-
ing, we Avere able to measm-e pretty accurately.

Between the Somma, however, and the cone the space is
narrow enough ; moreover, several stones fell around us, and
made the circuit anything but agreeable. Tischbein now felt
more disgusted than ever with Vesuvius, as the monster, not
content with being hatefiü, showed an inclination to become
mischievous also.

2 E 2

420 rr.TTEES from ttalv.

As, however, tlie presence of danger generally exercises on
man a kind of attraction, and calls forth a spirit of opposition in
the human breast to defy it, I bethought myself that, in the
interval of the eruptions, it would be possible to climb up the
cone to the crater, and to get back before it broke out again.
I held a council on this point with our guides under one of
the overhanging rocks of the Somma, where, encamped in
safety, we refreshed ourselves with the provisions we had
brought with us. The younger guide was willing to run the
risk with me ; we stuffed our hats full of linen and silk
handkerchiefs, and, staff in hand, we prepared to start, I
holding on to his gii-dle.

The little stones were yet rattling around us, and the ashes
stiU drizzling, as the stalwart youth hurried forth with mo
across the hot glowing rubble. We soon stood on the brink
of the vast chasm, the smoke of which, although a gentle air
was bearing it away from us, unfortunately veiled the interior
of the crater, which smoked all round from a thousand
crannies. At intervals, however, we caught sight through
the smoke of the cracked walls of the rock. The view was
neither instructive nor delightful ; but for the very reason
that one saw nothing, one lingered in the hope of catching a
glimpse of something more ; and so we forgot our slow
counting. We were standing on a nan'ow ridge of the vast
abyss : of a sudden the thunder pealed aloud ; we ducked our
heads involuntarily, as if that would have rescued us from the
precipitated masses. The smaller stones soon rattled, and
without considerin": that we had again an interval of eessa-
tion before us, and only too much rejoiced to have outstood
the danger, we rushed do\vn and reached the foot of the
hill, together with the drizzling ashes, which pretty thickly
covered our heads and shoulders.

Tischbein was heartily glad to see me again. After a
little scolding and a little refreshment, I was able to give my
especial attention to the old and new lava. And here the
elder of the guides was able to instruct me accurately in the
signs by which the ago of the several strata was indicated.
The older were already covered with ashes, and rendered
quite smooth ; the newer, especially those which had cooled
slowly, presented a singular appearance. As, sliding along,
they caiTied av ay with them the solid objects which lay oa

NAPLES — AN ANTIQUE A HOKSe's HEAD. 421

the surface, it necessarily happened that from time to time se-
veral would come into contact with each other, and these again
being swept still fm'ther by the molten stream, and pushed one
f)ver the other, would eventually form a solid mass witli won-
derful jags and corners, stiU more strange even than the some-
what similarly formed piles of the icebergs. Among this fused
and waste matter I found many great rocks, Avhich, being
struck with a hammer, present on the broken face a perfect
resemblance to the primeval rock formation. The guides
maintained that these were old lava from the lowest depths
of the momitain, which are very often thi'own up by the
volcano.

Upon our return to Naples, we noticed some small houses
of only one story, and of a remarkable appearance and
singular build, without windows, and receiving all their
light from the doors, which opened on the road. The inha-
bitants sit before them at the door from the morning to the
night, when they at last retii'e to their holes.

The city, which in the evening is all of a tumult, though of
a different kind from the day, extorted from me the wish
that I might be able to stay here for some time, in order to
.sketch to the best of my powers the moving scene. It will
not, however, be possible.

Naples, Wednesday, March 7, 1787.
This week Tischbein has shown to me, and Avithout reserve
commented upon, the greater part of the artistic treasures of
Naples. An excellent judge and drawer of animals, he had
long before called my attention to a horse's head in brass in
the Palace Columbrano : we went there to-day. This relic of
art is placed in the court right opposite the gateway, in a
niche over a well, and really excites one's astonishment.
"What must have been the effect of the whole head and body
together ? The perfect horse must have been far larger than
those at S. Mark's : moi-eover, the head alone, when closely
viewed, enables you distinctly to recognise and admire the
character and spirit of the animal. "^\\o splendid frontal

422 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

bones, the snorting nostrils, the pricked ears, the stiff mane,
— a strong, excited, and spirited creature !

We turned round to notice a female statue which stands in
a niche over the gateway. It has been ah-eady described by
Winckelmann as an imitation of a dancing girl, with the
remark, that such artistes represent to us in living move-
ment, and xmder the greatest variety, that beauty of form
which the masters of statuary exhibit in the (as it were)
petrified n^-mphs and goddesses. It is very light and beau-
tiful ; the head, which had been broken off, has been skilfully
set on again : otherwise it is nowise injured, and most assu-
redly deserves a better place.

Naples.

To-day I received your dear letter of the 1 6th Februaiy ;
only, keep on MTiting. I have made arrangements for the for-
warding of my letters, and I shall continue to do so, if I move
further. Quite strange does it seem to me to read that my
fi-iends do not often see each other ; and yet perhaps nothing
is more common than for men not to meet who are living close
together.

The weather here has become duU : a change is at hand.
Spring is commencing, and we shaU. soon have some rainy
days. The summit of Vesuvius has not been clear since I
paid it a visit. These few last nights flames have been seen to
issue from it; to-day it is keeping itself quiet, and therefore
more violent eruptions are expected.

The storms of these last few days have sho^vn to us a
glorious sea ; it is at such times that the waves may be
studied in their worthiest style and shape. Natm-e, indeed,
is the only book which presents important matter on all its
pages. On the other hand, the theatres have ceased to fur-
nish any amusement. During Lent nothing but operas,
-which differ in no respect from more profane ones but by the
absence of ballets between the acts ; in all other respects
they are as gay as possible. In the theatre of S. Carlo they
are representing t!ie destruction of Jerusalem by Nebu-
chadnezzar : to me it is only a great raree-show ; my taste
is quite spoilt for such things.

To-day we were with the Prince von Waldeck at Capo di

KAPLES. 423

Monte, where there is a great collection of paintings, coins,
&c. It is not well arranged, but the things themselves ai-e
above praise : "we can now correct and confuTn many tradi-
tional ideas. Those coins, gems, and vases which, like the
stunted citron-trees, come to us in the north one by one,
have quite a different look here in the mass, and, so to speak,
in their own home and native soil. For where works of art
are rare, their very rarity gives them a value ; here we learn
to treasm'e none but the intrinsically valuable.

A xew high price is at present given for Etruscan vases,
and certainly beautiful and excellent pieces are to be found
among them. Not a traveller but wishes to possess some
specimen or other of them ; one does not seem to value
money here at the same rate as at home : I fear that I
myself shall yet be tempted.

JS'aples, Friday, March 9, 1787.

This is the pleasant part of travelUng, that even ordinary
matters, by their novelty and unexpectedness, often acquire
the appearance of an adventure. As I came back from Capo di
Monte, I paid an evening -s-isit to Filangieri. and saw sitting
on the sofa, by the side of the mistress of the house, a lady
whose external appearance seemed to agree but little with the
familiarity and easy manner she indulged in. In a light,
striped, sük go-wn of veiy ordinaiy textiu-e, and a most sin-
gular cap, by way of head-di-ess. but of a pretty figure, she
looked like some poor di-essmaker who, taken up with the
care of adorning the persons of others, had httle time to
bestow on her own external appearance ; such people are so
accustomed to expect their laboui-s to be remunerated, that
they seem to have no idea of working gi'atis for themselves.
She did not allow her gossip to be at all checked by my arrival,
but went on talking of a nimaber of ridiculous adventm-es which
had happened to lier that day. or which had been occasioned
by her o^vn hrusqiierie and impetuosity.

The lady of the house wished to help me to get in a word
or two, and spoke of the beautiful site of Capo di Monte, and
of the treasures there. Upon this the lively lady sprang up
with a good high jump from the sofa, and as she stood on her
feet seemed stiU prettier than before. She took leave, and

424 LETTE KS FKOil ITALT.

running to the door, said, as she passed me, " The Filangieri
are coming one of these days to dine with me — I hope to
see you also.'' She was gone before I could say yes. I now

learnt that she was the Princess , a near relative to the

master of the house.*" The Filangieri were not rich, and lived
in a becoming but moderate style ; and such I presumed was
the case M-ith my little Princess, especially as such titles are
anything but rare in Naples. I set down the name, and the
day and hour, and left them, without any doubt but that I
should be found at tire right place in due time.

Kaples, Sunduij, March 11, 1787.

As my stay in Naples ciinnot be long, I take the most remote
points first of all — the near throw themselves, as it M'ere, in
one's Avay. I have been with Tischbein to Pompeii, and on
our road all those glorious prospects which were already well
known to us from many a landscape ch-awing, lay right and
left, dazzling us by their number and unbroken succession.

Pompeii amazes one by its narroA^niess and httleness ; con-
fined streets, but perfectly straight, and fm-nished on both
sides with a foot pavement ; little houses Avithout windows, the
rooms being lit only by the doors, which opened on the atrium
and the galleries. Even the public edifices, the tomb at the
gate, a temple, and also a villa in its neighbourhood, are like
models and dolls' houses, rather than real buildings. The
rooms, corridors, galleries and all, are painted with bright
and cheerful colom-s, the Avail surfaces imiform ; in the middle
some elaborate painting (most of these have been remoA-ed) ; on
the borders and at the corners, light tasteful arabesques,
terminating in the pretty figures of nymphs or chikken ; Awhile
in others, from out of garlands of flowers, beasts, Avild and
tame, are issuing. Thus does the city, Avhich first of all the
hot shoAver of stones and ashes overwhelmed, and afterAvards
the excavators plmidered, still bear A^•itness, even in its pre-
sent utterly desolate state, to a taste for painting and the
arts common to the whole people, of Avhich the most enthusi-
astic dilettante of the present day has neither idea nor feeling,
and so misses not.

* Filangieri's sister.

NAPLES — VISIT TO POMPEII. 425

When one considers the distance of this tovm from Vesu-
vius, it is clear that the volcanic matter which overwhelmed
it could not have been carried hither either by any sudden
impetus of the mountain, or by the wind. We must rather
suppose that these stones and ashes had been floating for a
time in the air, like clouds, until at last they fell upon the
doomed city.

In order to foi-m a clear and precise idea of this event, one
has only to think of a mountain ^•illage buried in snow. The
spaces between the houses, and indeed the crushed houses
themselves, Avere filled up ; however, it is not improbable that
some of the mason-work may, at different points, have peeped
above the surface, and in this way have excited the notice
of those by whom the liill was broken up for vineyards
and gardens. And, no doubt, many an owner, on digging
up his own portion, must have made valuable gleanings. Se-
veral rooms were foimd quite empty, and in the corner of one
a heap of ashes was observed, mider which a quantity of
household articles and Avorks of art was concealed.

The strange, and in some degree unpleasant impression
which this mummied city leaves on the mind, we got rid
of, as, sitting in the arbour of a little inn close to the sea
(where we dispatched a frugal meal), we revelled in the blue
sky, the glaring ripple of the sea, and the bright sunshine ; and
cherished a hope that, when the vine-leaf should again cover
the hill, we might all be able to pay it a second visit, and
once more enjoy om-selves together on the same spot.

As we approached the city, we again came upon the little cot-
tages, which now appeared to us perfectly to resemble those in
Pompeii. We obtained permission to enter one, and found it
extremely clean — neatly-platted rush-bottomed chairs, a buffet,
covered all over with gilding, or painted with variegated
flowers, and highly varnished. Thus, after so many centuries,
and such nimaberless changes, this country instils into its
inhabitants the same customs and habits of life, the same incli-
nations and tastes.

Najües, Monday, March 12, 1787.
To-day, according to my custom, I have gone slowly through
the city, noting several points, for a future description of it,
of which unfortunately I cannot communicate anything to-

426 LETTERS FEOM ITALY.

day. All tends to this one conclusion : that a highly-favored
land, which furnishes in abundance the chief necessaries of
existence, produces men also of a happy disposition, who, with-
out trouble or anxiety', trust to to-morrow to bring them what
to-day has been wanting, and consequently live on in a light-
hearted careless sort of life. Momentarv gratification, moderate
enjoyments, a passing soitow, and a cheerful resignation !

The morning has been cold and damp, with a little rain. In
my walk I came upon a spot where the great slabs of the
pavement appeared swept quite clean. To my great surprise
I saw. on this smooth and even spot, a niunber of ragged boys
squatting in a circle, and spreading out their hands over the
ground, as if to warm them. At first I took it to be some
game that they were plapng ; when, however, I noticed the
perfect seriousness and composure of their countenances, with
an expression on it of a gratified want, I therefore put my
brains to the utmost stretch, but they refused to enHghten me
as I desired. I was, therefore, obliged to ask what it could
be that had induced these little imps to take up this strange
position, and had collected them in so regular a circle.

Upon this I was informed that a neighboui-ing smith had
been heating the tire of a wheel, and that this is done in the
following manner : — The iron tire is laid on the pavement, and
aroimd is as much oak chips as is considered sufficient to
soften the ii'on to the reqmred degree. The Lighted wood
burns away, the tii-e is riveted to the wheel, and the ashes
carefully swept up. The little vagabonds take advantage of
the heat communicated to the pavement, and do not leave the
spot till they have drawn from it the last radiation of warmth.
Similar instances of contentedness. and sharp-witted profiting
by what other'W'ise woiüd be wasted, occur here in great num-
ber. I notice in this people the most shrewd and active
industry, not to make riches, but to live free from care.

Evening.

In order that I might not make any mistake yesterday, as
to the house of my odd little princess, and might be there in
time, I called a hackney carriage. It stopped before the grand
entrance of a spacious palace. As I had no idea of coming
to so splendid a dwelling, I repeated to him most distinctly

NAPLES — A DINNER PAETT. 427

the name ; lie assured me it was quite right. I soon found
myself in a spacious com-t, still and lonesome, empty and
clean, enclosed by the principal edifice and side buildinp^s.
The architecture was the well-known light Neapolitan style,
as was also the colouring. Right before me was a grand porch,
and a broad but not very high flight of steps. On both sides
of it stood a line of sei-rants, in splendid liveries, who, as I
passed them, bowed very low. I thought myself the Sultan
in Wieland"s faiiy tale, and after his example, took coui-age.
Next I was received by the upper domestics, tül at last the
most courtly of them opened a door, and introduced me into
a spacious apartment, which Avas as splendid, but also as
empty of people as all before. In passing back^'ards and
forwards I observed, in a side-room, a table laid out for about
forty persons, -wdth a splendoiu* coi'responding with all around.
A secular priest now entered, and without asking who I was,
or Avhence I came, approached me as if I were akeady known
to him, and conversed on the most common-place topics.

A pail" of folding doors were now thrown open and imme-
diately closed again, as a gentleman rather advanced in years
entered. The priest immediately proceeded towards him, as
I also did ; we greeted him with a few words of courtesy,
which he retm-ned in a barking stuttering tone, so that I
could scarcely make out a syllable of his Hottentot dialect.
When he had taken his place by the stove, the priest
moved away, and I accompanied him. A portly Benedictine
entered, accompanied by a younger member of his order.
He went to salute the host, and after being also barked at,
retired to a ^Aandow. The regular clergy, especially those
whose di'ess is becoming, have great advantage in society ;
their costume is a mark of humility and renunciation of self,
while, at the same time it lends to its wearers a decidedly
dignified appearance. In their behaviour they may easily,
Avithout degi-ading themselves, appear submissive and com-
plying; and then again, when they stand upon their own
dignity, their self-respect sits well upon them, although in
others it would not be so readily allowed to pass. This was
the case with this person, ^^^len I asked him about jNIonte
Cassino, he immediately gave me an invitation thither, and
promised me the best of welcomes. In the meanwhile the
room had become full of people ; officers, people of the court.

428 LETTEKS FlUi-M ITALY.

more regulars, and even some Capuchins, had arrived. Once
more a set of folding-doors opened and shut ; an aged lady,
somewhat older than my host, had entered ; and now the
presence of what I took to be the lady of the house, made
me feel perfectly confident that I was in a strange mansion,
where I was wholly unknown to its owners. Dinner was now
served, and I was keeping close to the side of my friends the
monks, in order to slip with them into the paradise of the
dining-room, when all at once I saw Filangieri, with his
wife, enter and make his excuses for being so late. Shortly
after this my little princess came into the room, and with
nods, and winks, and bows to all as she passed, came straight
to me. — " It is very good of you to keep your word," she
exclaimed ; '• mind you sit by me, — you shall have the best
bits. — wait a minute though ; I must find out which is my
proper place, then mind and take your place by me." Thus
commanded, I followed the various windings she made ; and at
last we reached our seats, having the Benedictine right oppo-
site and Filangieri on my other side. '• The dishes are all
good," she observed, — " all lenten fare, but choice : I'll point
out to you the best. But now I must rally the priests, —
the churls ! I cant bear them ; every day they are cutting a
fresh slice ofi" oui- estate. What we have, we shoidd like
to spend on ourselves and our friends." The soup was now
handed round, — the Benedictine was sipping his -»-eiy deli-
berately. " Pray don"t put yourself out of your way. — the
spoon is too small, I fear ; I will bid them bring you a larger
one. Youi" reverences are used to a good mouthful." The
good father replied, — " In your house, lady, ever\- thing is
so excellent, and so well an-anged, that much more distin-
guished guests than your humble servant would find every-
thing to their heart's content."

Of the pasties the Benedictine took only one ; she called
out to him, — "Pray take half a dozen; pastry, your reverence
surely knows, is easy of digestion." "With good sense he
took another pasty, thanking the princess for her attention,
just as if he had not seen through her malicious raillery-.
And so, also, some solid paste-work fumi.shed her with occa-
sion for venting her spite ; ior, as the monk helped himself
to a piece, a second rolled ofi' the dish towards his plate, —
" A third ! vour reverence ; you seem anxious to lay a

NAPLES A DIXXER PAKTY. 429

foundation !'" — " ^\Tien such excellent materials are fmnished
to his hand, the architect's laboui's are easy," rejoined his
reverence. Thus she went on continually, only pausing
awhUe to keep her promise of pointing out to me the best
dishes.

All this while I was conversing with my neighbour on the
gravest topics. Absolutely, I never heard Filangieri utter
an unmeaning sentence. In this respect, and indeed in many
others, he resembles our worthy friend, George Schlosser,
with this difference, that the former, as a Neapolitan, and a
man of the Avorld, had a softer nature and an easier manner.

During the whole of this time my roguish neighbour
allowed the clerical gentrv* not a moment's truce. Above all,
the fish at this lenten meal, dished iip in imitation of flesh of
all kinds, fiunished her with inexhaustible opportunities for
all manner of irreverent and ill-natured observations ; espe-
cially in justification and defence of a taste for flesh, she
observed that people would have the form to give a relish,
even when the essence was prohibited.

Many more such jokes were noticed by me at the time, but
I am not in the humoiu- to repeat them. Jokes of this kind,
fresh spoken, and Mling from beautiful lips, may be tolerable,
not to say amusing, but set down in black and white, they
lose all charm, for me at least. Then again, the boldly hazarded
stroke of wit has this peculiarity, that at the moment it
pleases us while it astonishes vis by its boldness, but when
told Jifterwards, it somids offensive, and disgusts us.

The dessert was brought in, and I was afraid that the
cross-fire would still be kept up, when suddenly my fair
neighbour turned qidte composedly to me and said. — '• The
priests may gidp their Syracusan wine in peace for I can-
not succeed in worrying a single one to death, — no, not even
in spoiling their appetites. Now, let me have some rational
talk with you : for what a hea^y sort of thing must a conver-
sation with Filangieri be ! The good creatiu'e ; he gives him-
self a great deal of trouble for nothing. I often say to him, if
you make new laws, we must give oiu'selves fresli pains to
find out how we can forthwith transgress them, just as we
have already set at naught the old. Only look now. how
beautiful Naples is ! For these many years the people have
lived free from care and contented, and if now and then

430 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

some poor wretch is hanged, all the rest stiU pursiie their own
merry coiirse." She theu proposed that I should pay a visit
to Sorrento, where she had a large estate ; her steward would
feast me with the best of fish, and the delicious niungana,
(flesh of a sucking calf). The mountain air, and the xm-
equalled prospect, would be sure to cure me of all philosophy,
— then she would come herself, and not a trace should remain
of all my wrinkles, which, by the bye, I had allowed to grow
before their time, and together we would have a right merry
time of it.

Naples, March 13, 1787.

To-day also I write you a few lines, in order that letter
may ])rovoke letter. Things go Avell with me — however, I
see less than I ought. The place induces an indolent and
easy sort of life ; nevertheless, my idea of it is gradually
becoming more and more complete.

On Sunday we were in Pompeii. Many a calamity has
happened in the world, but never one that has caused so much
entertainment to posterity as this one. I scarcely know of
anything that is more interesting. The houses are small and
close together, but within they are all most exquisitely painted.
The gate of the city is remarkable, with the tombs close to it.
The tomb of a priestess, a semicircular bench, with a stone
back, on which was the inscription cut in large characters.
Over the back you have a sight of the sea and the setting sun
— a glorious spot, worthy of the beautiful idea.

"We found there good and merry companj' from Naples ;
the men are perfectly natural and light-hearted. We took
our dinner at the " Torre del' Annunziata,"' with our table
placed close to the sea. The day was extremely fine. The
view towards Castell a Mare and Sorrento, near and incompa-
rable. My companions were quite raptiurous in praise of their
native place ; some asserted that without a sight of the sea it
was impossible to live. To me it is quite enough I hat I have
its image in my soul, and so, Avhen the time comes, may safely
return to my mountain home.

Fortunately, there is here a very honest painter of laud-
scapes, who imparts to his pieces the verj' impression of the

NAPLES — POMPEII PORTICI. 431

rich and open countr}^ around. He has ahready executed some
sketches for me.

The Vesuvian productions I have now pretty well studied ;
things, however, assume a different signification when one
sees them in connection. Properly, I ought to devote the
rest of my life to observation : I should discover much that
would enlarge man's knowledge. Pray tell Herder that my
botanical discoveries are continually advancing ; it is still the
same principle, but it requires a whole hie to work it out.
Perhaps I am already in a situation to draw the leading lines
of it.

I can now enjoy myself at the museum of Portici. Usually
people make it the first object, — we mean to make it om- last.
As yet I do not know whether I shall be able to extend my
tour ; aU things tend to drive me back to Rome at Easter. I
shall let things take theii- course.

AngeUca has undertaken to paint a scene out of my " Iphi-
genia." The thought is a very happy subject for a pictm-e,
and she will deHneate it excellentlJ^ It is the moment when
Orestes finds himself again in the presence of his sister and
his friend. What the three characters are saying to each
other she has indicated by the grouping, and given theis
Avords in the expressions of their countenances. F^rom thir
description you may judge how keenly sensitive she is, and
how quick she is to seize whatever is adapted to her nature.
And it is really the tm-ning point of the whole di-ama.

Fare you well, and love me ! Here the people are aU very
good, even though they do not know what to make of me.
Tischbein, on the other hand, pleases them far better. This
evening he hastily painted some heads of the size of life, and
about which they disported themselves as strangely as the
New Zealanders at the sight of a ship of war. Of this an
amusing anecdote.

Tischbein has a great knack of etching with a pen the
shapes of gods and heroes, of the size of life, and even more.
He uses very few lines, but cleverly puts in the shades with a
broad pencil, so that the heads stand out roundly and nobly.
The bystanders looked on with amazement, and were highly
delighted. At last an itching seized thefr fingers to try and
paint ; they snatched the brushes and painted — one another's
beards, daubing each others faces. Was not this an

432 XETTEKS FROM ITALY.

original trait of human natui'e? And this was done in an
elegant circle, in the house of one who was himself a clever
draughtsman and painter ! It is impossible to form an idea of
this race without having: seen it.

Caserta, Wednesday, Murcli 14, 1787.

I am here on a visit to Hackert, in his highly agreeable
apartments, which have been assigned him in the ancient
castle. The new palace, somewhat huge and Escuriallike, of
a qua(h\angular plan, with many courts, is royal enough. The
site is uncommonly fine, on one of the most fertile plains in
the world, and yet the gardens trench on the mountains. From
these an aqueduct brings down an entire river, to supply
water to the palace and the district ; and the whole can, on
occasion, be thrown on some artificially-arranged rocks, to
form a most glorious cascade. The gardens are beautifully
laid out, and suit Avell with a district which itself is thought a
garden.

The castle is triüy kingly. It appears to me, however, par-
ticularly gloomy ; and no one of us could bring himself to
think the vast and empty rooms comfortable. The King pro-
bably is of the same opinion, for he has caused a house to be
built on the mountains, which, smaller and more proportioned
to man's littleness, is intended for a hunting-box and country-
seat.

Caserta, Thursday, March 15, 1787.
Hackert is lodged veiy comfortably in the old castle — it is
quite roomy enough for all his guests. Constantly busy with
drawing and painting, he nevertheless is very social, and
easily draws men aroimd him, as in the end he generally
makes every one become his scholar ; he has also quite won
me by putting up patiently with my weaknesses, and insists,
above all things, on distinctness of drawing, and marked and
clear keeping. ^Yhen he paints, he has three colours always
ready ; and as he works on and uses one after another, a pic-
tuie is produced, one knows not how or whence. I wish the
execution were as easy as it looks. With his usual blunt
honesty he said to — — , " You have capacity, but you aie

NAPLES SULZEK's THEORY OF THE FINE AKTS. 433

unable to accomplish anj-thing ; stay witli me a year and a
half, and you shall be able to produce works which shall be a
delight to yourself and to others."' Is not this a text on wliich
one might preach eternally to dilettanti : — We would like to
see what sort of a pupil we can make of you.

The special confidence with which the queen honors him
is evinced not merely by the fact that he gives lessons in prac-
tice to the princesses, but still more so by his being fre-
fluently summoned on an evening to talk with and iustiaict
them on art and kindred subjects. lie makes Sulzer's book
the basis of such lectures, selecting the articles, as entertain-
ment or conviction may be his object.

I was obliged to approve of this, and, in consequence, to
laugh at myself. "SMiat a difference is there between him who
wishes to investigate principles, and one whose highest object
is to work on the world and to teach them for theii- mere pri-
vate amusement. Sulzer"s theoiy was always odious to me on
accotmt of the falseness of its fundamental maxim, but now
I saw that the book contained much more than the multitude
require. The varied information which is here communicated,
the mode of thinking with which alone so active a mind as
Suker's could be satisfied, must have been qtiite sufficient for
the ordinary rim of people.

Many happy and profitable hours have I spent with the
pictm'e-restorer Anders, who has been summoned hither from
Rome, and resides in the Castle, and industriously pursues
his work, in which the king takes a great interest. Of his
skill in restoring old paintings, I dare not begin to speak,
since it would be necessarj- to describe the whole process of
this yet difficult craft, — and wherein consists the difficulty
of the problem, and the merit of success.

Caserta, March 16, 1787.

Your dear letter of the 1 9th Febriiary reached me to-dav,
and I must forthwith dispatch a word or two in reply. How
glad should I be to come to my senses again, by thinking of
uiy friends !

Naples is a paradise : in it even,- one lives in a sort of
intoxicated self-forgetfulness. It is even so with me ; I scarcely
know myself— I seem quite an altered man. Yesterday I

Vol. II. 2 f

434 LETTERS FKOM ITALY.

said to myself : either you have always been mad, or you are
so now.

I have paid a visit to the ruins of ancient Capua, and all
that is connected with it.

In this covmtiy one first begins to have a true idea of what
vegetation is, and why man tills the fields. The flax here is al-
ready near to blossoming, and the wheat a span and a-half high.
Around Caserta the land is perfectly level, the fields worked
as clean and as fine as the beds of a garden. All of them arc
planted with poplars, and from tree to tree the \-ine spreads;
and yet. notwithstanding this shade, the sou below produces the
finest and most abundant crops possible. What vrill they be
when the spring shall come in power ! Hitherto we have had
verv cold winds, and there has been snow on the mountains.

AVithin fourteen days I must decide whether to go to Sicily
or not. Never before have I been so tossed backwards
and forwai'ds in coming to a resolution : eveiy- day something
■will occur to recommend the trip ; the next morning — some
circumstance will be against it. Two spirits are contending
for me.

I say this in confidence, and for my female fi-iends alone:
speak not a word of it to my male friends. I am well
aware that my " Iphigenia"' has fared strangely. The
public were so accustomed to the old form, expressions
which it had adopted from frequent hearing and reading,
were familiar to it : and now quite a different tone is sound-
ing in its ears ; and I clearly see that no one, in fact, thanks
me for the endless pains I have been at. Such a work is
never finished : it must, however, pass for such, as soon as
the author has done his utmost, considering time and circum-
stances.

All this, however, will not be able to deter me from trj'ing
a similar operation with " Tasso." Perhaps it would be
better to thi"0w it into the fire ; however, I shall adhere to
my resolution, and since it must be what it is, I shall make a
•wonderful work of it. On this account, I am pleased to find that
the printing of my works goes on so slowly ; and then, again,
it is well to be at a distance fi-om the murmurs of the compo-
sitor. Strange enough that even in one's most independent
actions, one expects, nay, requires a stimulus.

NAPLES LADT HAMILTON. 435

Caserta, March 16, 1787.

K in Rome one can readily set oneself to study, here one
can do nothing but live. You forget yourself and the
•world; and to me it is a strange feeHng to go about -«-ith
people who think of nothing but enjoying themselves. Sir
William Hamilton, -who still resides here as ambassador from
England, has at length, after his long love of art. and long
study, discovered the most perfect of admirers of nature and
art in a beautiful young woman. She lives \d\h. him : an
English woman of about twenty years old. She is very
handsome, and of a beautiful iigure. The old Icnight has
had made for her a Greek costume, which becomes her ex-
tremely. Dressed in this, and letting her hair loose, and
taking a couple of shawls, she exhibits ever}- possible variety
of postiire, expression, and look, so that at the last the spec-
tator almost fancies it is a dream. One beholds here in per-
fection, in movement, in ravishing variety, all that the greatest
of artists have rejoiced to be able to produce. Standing,
kneeling, sitting, lying down, gi-ave or sad, playful, ex-
ulting, repentant, wanton, menacing, anxious — all mental
states follow rapidly one after another. "With wonderful
taste she suits the folding of her veil to each expression, and
with the same handkerchief makes every kind of head-dress.
The old knight holds the light for her, and enters into the
exhibition with his whole soul. He thinks he can discern
in her a resemblance to all the most famous antiques, all the
beautiful profiles on the Sicilian coins — aye, of the Apollo
Belvedere itself. This much at any rate is certain — ^the
entertainment is imique. We spent two evenings on it Avith
thorough enjoyment. To-day Tischbein is engaged in paint-
ing her.

"WTiat I have seen and inferred of the personnel of the
Court requires to be fürther tested, before I set it down.
To-day the king is gone hunting the wolves ; they hope to
kül at least five.

Naples, March 17, 1787.
When I would write words, images only start before
my eyes, — the beautiful land, the free sea ; the hazy
2 F 2

436 LETTERS EROM ITALY.

islands, the roaring mountain ; — powers to delineate all this
fail me.

Here in this country one at last understands how it ever
came into the head of man to till the ground — here where
it produces everything, and where one may look for as many
as fi-'om tliree to five crops in the year.

I have seen much, and reflected still more. The world
opens itself to me more and more — all even that I have long
known is at last becoming my own. How quick to know,
but how slow to put in practice, is the human creature!

The only pity is, that I cannot at each moment communi-
cate to others my obsei-vations. But. both as man and artist,
one is here di-iven backwards and forwards by a hundi'cd ideas
of his own, while his services are put in requisition by hun-
dreds of persons. His situation is pecuHar and strange ; he
cannot freely s}Tnpathize Avith another's being, because he
finds his oaati exertions so put to the stretch.

And after all, the world is nothing but a wheel ; in its
whole pcripheiy it is every where similar, but, nevertheless,
it appears to us so strange, because we om-selves ai"e carried
round with it.

^Vhat I always said has actually come to pass : in this
land alone do I begin to understand and to imravel many a
phenomenon of nature, and complication of opinion. I am
gathering from even»' quarter, and shall bring back with me
a great deal, — certainly much love of my own native land,
and joy to live with a few dear friends.

With regard to my Sicilian tour, the gods still hold the
.scales in their hands : the index still wavers.

KAPLE3 EOL'SSXAr. 4^

"VMio can the friend be who has thus mysteriously an-
nounced: Only, may I not neglect him in my pilgiimage
and tour in the island I

The frigate from Palermo has returned : in eight days she
sets sail again. "Whether I shall sail with it, and be back at
Rome by Passion Week, I have not as yet determined.
Kever in my life have I been so xmdeeided : a tiifle will
turn the scale.

With men I get on rather better : for I feel that one must
weigh them by avoirdupois weight, and not by the jewel-
ler's scales ; as. imfortunately, friends too often weigh one
another in their hypochondriacal humours and in an over-
exacting spirit.

Here men Icnow nothing of one another ; they scarcely.
obser\"e that others are also going on their way, side by side
with them. They nm all day backwards and forwards in a
Paradise, without looking aroimd them ; and if the neigh-
boui'ing jaws of hell begin to open and to rage, they have re-
course to S. Januarius.

To pass through such a countless multitude, with its rest-
less excitement, is strange, but salutaiy. Here they are aU
crossing and recrossing one another, and yet every one finds
his way and his object. In so gi-eat a crowd and bustle I feel
myself perfectly cahn and sohlar)' ; the more bustling the
str. ets become, the more quietly I move.

Often do I think of Kousseau and his hypochondriacal
discontent ; and I can thoroughly imderstand how so fine an
organization may have been deranged. Did I not' myself feel
such sjTnpathy with natural objects : and did I not see that,
in the apparent perplexitv', a hmidred seemingly contrary
observations admit of being reconciled, and arranged side by
side, just as the geometer by a cross line tests many mea-
sm-ements, I should often thiiik mvself mad.

'438 liETTEKS FEOM ITALY.

Naples, March 18, 1787.
"\Ve must not any longer put off oiu- visit to Herculaneum,
and the Museum ol' Portici, where the curiosities Avhich have
been dug out of it are collected and preserved. That ancient
city, lying at the foot of Yesu"säus, was entirely covered mth
lava, which subsequent eruptions succesively raised so high,
that the buildings are at present sixtj" feet below the sui-face.
The city was discovered by some men coming upon a marble
pavement, as they were digging a well. It is a great pity that
the excavation was not executed systematically by German
miners ; for it is admitted that the work, which was canied on
at random, and with the hope of plunder, has spoilt many anoble
monument of ancient art. After descending sixty steps into a
pit, bv torch-Hght you gaze in admiration at the theatre which
once stood beneath the open sky, and listen to the giiide re-
counting all that was found there, and carried off.

We entered the museum well recommended, and were well
received ; nevertheless we were not allowed to take any
drawings. Perhaps on this account we paid the more atten-
tion to what we saw, and the more vividly transported om--
selves into those long-passed times, when all these things
surrounded their living o'^^^lers, and ministered to the use and
enjovment of life. The little houses and rooms of Pompeii
now appeared to me at once more spacious and more con-
fined— more confined, because I fancied them to myself
crammed full of so many precious objects : more spacious,
because these veiy objects could not have been furnished
merely as necessaries, but, being decorated with the most
gracefiü and ingenious devices of the imitative arts, while
they delighted the taste, must also have enlarged the
mind far beyond what the amplest house-room could ever have
done.

One sees here, for instance, a nobly-shaped pail, mounted
at the top with a highly-ornamented edge. "When you
examine it more closely, you find that this rim rises on two
sides, and so furnishes convenient handles by which the vessel
may be lifted. The lamps, according to the ntmiber of their
wicks, are ornamented with masks and mountings, so that
each burner illuminates a genuine figure of art. ^^'e also saw
some high and gracefully slender stands of iron for holding

XAPXES ENGAGEMENT "SVITH KXIEP. 439

lamps, the pendant biuTiers beino; suspended with figures of all
kinds, -which display a wonderful fertility of invention ; and
as, in order to please and delight the eye, they sway and oscil-
late, the effect surpasses all description.

In the hope of being able to pay a second AÜsit. we followed
the usher from room to room, and snatched all the delight
and instruction that was possible fi-om a cursory yiew.

Naples, Monday, March 19, 1787.
Within these last few days I have formed a new connexion.
Tischbein for three or four weeks has faithfully lent me all
the assistance in his power, and diligently explained to me the
works both of nature and art. Yesterday, however, after being
at the ^Museum of Portici, we had some conversation together,
and we came to the conclusion that, consideiing his own ar-
tistic objects, he could not perform, with credit to himself,
the works which, in the hope of some future appointment
in Naples, he has undertaken for the Court and for several
persons in the city, nor do justice to my views, wishes, and
fencies. With sincere good wishes for my success, he has
therefore recommended to me for my constant companion
a young man whom, since I arrived here, I have often
seen, not without feeling some inclination and liking for
him. His name is Kniep. who, after a long stay at Rome,
has come to Naples as the true field and element of the
landscape-painter. Even in Rome I had heard him highly
spoken of as a clever di^aughtsman — only his industiy was
not much commended. I have tolerably studied his cha-
racter, and think the ground of this censure arises rather
from a want of a decision, which certainly may be overcome,
if we are long together A favourable beginning confii-ms me
in this hope ; and if he continues to go on thiis, we shall
continue good companions for some time.

Naples, March 19, 1787.

One needs only to walk along the streets, and keep one's

eyes well open, and one is sure to see the most unequalled of

scenes. At the Mole, one of the noisiest quarters of the

cit}-, I saw yesterday a Pulcinello, who on a temporary stage

440 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

of plauks was quavrollinsj with an ape, -while from a balcony
above a right pretty maiden was exposing her charms to
every eye. Not far from the ape and his stage a quack
doctor was recommending to the credulous crowd his
nostrums for every evil. Such a scene painted by a Ger-
ard Dow would not fail to charm contemporaries and pos-
terity.

To-day, moreover, was the festival of S. Joseph. He is the
patron of all Fritaruoli — that is, pastry-cooks, and understands
baking in a very extensive sense. Because beneath the black
and seething oil hot flames will, of com-se, rage, — therefore,
every kind of torture by fire falls within his province.
Accordingly, yesterday evening, being the eve of the Saint's
day, the fronts of the houses were adorned with pictures, to
tlie best of the inmates' skill, representing souls in Purgatory,
or the Last Judgment, with plenty of fire and flame. Before the
doors frying-pans were hissing on hastily-constructed hearths.
One partner was working the dough, another shaped it into
twists, and threw it into the boiling lard ; a third stood by
the frying-pan, holding a short skewer, with which he drew
out the twists as soon as they were done, and shoved them off
on another skewer to a fourth party, Avho ofiered them to the
bystanders. The two last Avere generally young apprentices,
and wore white curly wigs, — this head-dress being the Neapo-
litan symbol of an angel. Other figm-es besides completed
the group ; and these Avere busy in presenting wdne to the
busy coolvs, or in drinking themselves, crying, and puffing
tlie article all the wdiile ; the angels, too, and cooks were all
clamouring. The people crowded to buy — for all pastiy is
sold cheap on this evening, and a part of the profits given
to the jjoor.

Scenes of this kind may be witnessed without end. Thus
fares it every day ; always something new — some fresh
absurdity. The variety of costume, too, that meets you in
the streets ; the multitude, too, of passages in the Toledo
street alone !

Thus there is plenty of most original entertainment, if only
one will live with the pcojole ; it is so natural, that one almost
becomes natural oneself. For this is the original birth-place
of Pulcinello, the true national mask — the Harlequin of
Pergamo, and the Hanswm-th of the Tyrol. This Pulcinello

KAPLES EKUrXIOX OF VESUVIUS. 441

now is a thoroughly easy, sedate, somewhat indifferent,
perhaps lazy, and yet humorous fellow. And so one meets
everywhere with a " Kellner'' and a " Hausknecht." With ours
I had special fun yesterday, and yet there was nothing
more than my sending him to fetch some paper and pens. A
half misunderstanding, a little loitering, good humour and
roguery, produced a most amusing scene, which might be
veiy successfully brought out on any stage.

Naples, Tuesday, JIarch 20, 1787.

The news that an eruption of lava had just commenced,
which, taking the direction of Ottajano, was iimsible at Na-
ples, tempted me to A^sit Vesuvivis for the third time. Scarcely
had I jumped out of my cabriolet (zweii-adi-igen einpfcrdigen
Fuhrwerk), at the foot of the mountain, when immediately ap-
peared the two guides who had accompanied us on our pre^äous
ascent. I had no wish to do without cither, but took one out of
gratitude and custom, the other for reliance on his judgment, —
and the two for the greater convenience. Having ascended
the summit, the older guide remained with our cloaks and
refreshment, while the younger followed me, and we boldly
went straight towards a dense volmne of smoke, which broke
forth from the bottom of the funnel ; then we quickly went
downwards by the side of it, till at last, under the clear heaven,
we distinctly saw the lava emitted from the rolling clouds of
smoke.

We may hear an object spoken of a thousand times, but
its peculiar features will never be caught till we see it with
our OAvn eyes. The stream of lava Avas small, not broader
perhaps than ten feet, but the way in which it flowed down
a gentle and tolerably smooth plain was remarkable. As it
flowed along, it cooled both on the sides and on the smface,
so that it formed a sort of canal, the bed of which was contin-
ually raised in consequence of the molten mass congealing
even beneath the fiery stream, which, with uniform action,
precipitated right and left the scoria which were floating on
its surface. In this way a regular dam was at length throA^-n
up, in which the glowing stream flowed on as quietly as
any mill-stream. We passed along the tolerably high dam,

442 XETTERS FKOM ITALY.

while the scoria rolled regularly off the sides at our feet.
Some cracks in the canal afforded opportunity of looking
at the living stream from below, and as it rushed onwards, we
observed it from above.

A very bright sun made the glowing lava look dull ; but a mo-
derate steam rose from it into the pure air. I felt a great desire
to go nearer to the point where it broke out from the moun-
tain ; there my guide averred, it at once formed vaults and
roofs above itself, on which he had often stood. To see and ex-
perience this phenomenon, we again ascended the hill, in order
to come from behind to this point. Fortunately at this mo-
ment the place was cleared by a pretty strong wind, but not
entirely, for all round it the smoke eddied from a thousand
crannies ; and now at last we stood on the top of the solid
roof, (which looked like a hardened mass of twisted dough),
but which, however, projected so far outwards, that it was
impossible to see the welling lava.

We ventured about twenty steps further, but the ground
on which we stepped became hotter and hotter, while around
us rolled an oppressive steam, which obscured and hid the
sun ; the guide, Avho was a few steps in advance of me, pre-
sently turned back, and seizing hold of me, hm-ried out of this
Stygian exlialation.

After we had refreshed our eyes with the clear prospect,
and washed our gums and throat with wine, we went round
again to notice any other peculiarities which might charac-
terise this peak of hell, thus rearing itself in the midst of a
Paradise. I again observed attentively some chasms, in appear-
ance like so many Vulcanic forges, which emitted no smoke,
but continually shot out a steam of hot glowing air. They were
all tapestried, as it were, with a kind of stalactite, which covered
the funnel to the top, with its knobs and chintz-like variation
of colours. In consequence of the irregularity of the forges,
I found many specimens of this sublimation hanging within
reach, so that, with our staves and a little contrivance, we
were able to hack off a few, and to secure them. I saw in the
shops of the dealers in lava similar specimens, labelled simply
"Lava ;" and I was delighted to have discovered that it was
volcanic soot precipitated from the hot vapour, and dis-
tinctly exhibiting the sublimated mineral particles which it
contained.

NAPLES SIE WILXIAH HAMILTON. 443

The most glorious of sunsets, a heavenly evening, refreshed
me on my return ; stül I felt how all great contrasts confoimd
the mind and senses. From the temble to the beautiful —
from the beautiful to the terrible ; each destroys the other,
and produces a feeling of indiiference. Assuredly, the Neapo-
litan would be quite a different creature, did he not feel him-
self thus hemmed in between Elysivun aud Tartarus.

jVaples, March 22, 1787.

Were I not impelled by the German spirit, and desire to
learn and to do rather than to enjoy, I should tarry a little
longer in this school of a light-hearted and happy life, and
try to profit by it still more. Here it is enough for content-
ment, if a man has ever so little an income. The situation of
the city, the mildness of the cHmate, can never be sufficiently
extolled ; but it is almost exclusively to these that the stranger
is refen-ed.

No doubt, one who has abundance of time, tact, and means,
might remain here for a long time, with profit to himself. Thus
Sir William Hamilton has contrived highly to enjoy a long resi-
dence in this city, and now, in the evening of his fife, is reaping
the fi'uits of it. The rooms which he has had furnished in the
English style, are most delightful, and the view fi-om the
comer room, perhaps, imique. Eelow you is the sea, with
a view of Capri, Posillppo on the right, with the prome-
nade of Villa Real between you and the grotto ; on the left
an ancient building belonging to the Jesuits, and beyond it
the coast stretching from Sorrento to Cape Minerva. Another
prospect equal to this is scarcely to be found in Europe, — at
least, not in the centre of a great and popiüous city.

Hamilton is a person of universal taste, and after having
wandered through the whole realm of creation, has found
rest at last in a most beautiful wife, a mastei-piece of the great
artist — Xatm-e .

And now after all this, and a hundred-fold more of enjoy-
ment, the sirens from over the sea are beckoning me ; and if
the wind is favorable, I shall start at the same time with this
letter, — it for the north, I for the south. The human mind
Moll not be confined to any limits — I especially require breadth
and extent in an eminent degree ; however, I must content

444 LETTERS FROM. ITALY.

myself on this occasion witli a rapid survey, and must not
think of a long fixed look. If by hearing and thinking. I can
only attain to as much of any object as a finger's tip, I shall
be able to make out the whole hand.

Singularly enough, within these few days, a friend has
spoken to me of Wilhelm Meister, and urged me to continue
it. In this climate, I don't think it possible ; however, some-
thing of the air of this heaven may, perhaps, be imparted to
the closing books. May my existence only unfold itself suflS-
ciently to lengthen the stem, and to produce richer and finer
flowers ; certainly it were better for me never to have come
here at all, than to go away unregenerated.

Najiles, March 22, 1787.
Yesterday we saw a picture of Correggio's, Avhich is for sale.
It is not. indeed, in very good preservation ; however, it still
retains the happiest stamp possible of all the peculiar charms of
this painter. It represents a Madonna, with the infant, hesi-
tating between the breast and some pears which an angel is
offering it ; the subject, therefore, is the weaning of Christ.
To me the idea appears extremely tender ; the composition
easy and natural, and happily and charmingly executed. It
immediately reminded me of the Yow of S. Catherine, and,
in my opinion, the painting is imquestionably from the hand
of Correggio.

Naples, Friday, March 23, 1787.
The terms of my engagement with Kniep are now settled,
and it has commenced in a right practical way. We went toge-
ther to Pfcstum, where, and also on our journey thither and
back, he showed the greatest industry with his pencil. He has
taken some of the most glorious outlines possible. He seems
to relish this moving but busy sort of life, which has called for
a talent which he was scarcely conscious of. This comes of
being resolute : but it is exactly here that his accurate and
nice skill shows itself He never stops to surround the paper
on which he is about to draw Avith the usual rectangiilar lines ;
however, he seems to take as much jileasm-e in cutting points
to his pencil, which is of the best English lead, as in drawing

XAPLES A SKETCHIXG EXCUESIOX. 445

itself. Thus his outliues are just what one would -R-ish them
tobe.

Now we have come to the following arrangement : — From
this day forward, we are to live and travel together ; while he
is to have nothing to trouble himself about but drawing, as he
has done for the last few days.

All the sketches are to be mine ; but in order to a fiuiher
profit, after oiu" retm-n, from our connexion, he is to finish for
a certain simi a number of them, which I am to select : and
then, remuneration for the others is to be settled according to
the dexterity he evinces in them, and the importance of the
views taken, and other considerations. This arrangement
has made me quite happy, and now at last I can give you an
account of our jom"ney.

Sitting in a light two-wheeled carriage, and driving in turn,
with a rough good-natured boy behind, we rolled through the
glorious countn.-, which Kniep greeted with a true artistic
eye. We now reached the moimtain stream, which, running
along a smooth artificial channel, skirts most delightful rocks
and woods. At last, in the district of Alia Cava, Kniep could
not contain himself, but set to work to fix on paper a splendid
mountain, which right before us stood out boldly against the
blue sky. and with a clever and characteristic touch drew
the outlines of the summit, with the sides also, down to its
very base. We both made merry with it, as the earnest of our
contract.

A similar sketch was taken in the evening from the win-
dow, of a singularly lovely and rich comitry, which passes
all my powers of description. Who would not have been
disposed to study at such a spot, in those bright times, when
a high school of art was flourishing? Veiy eirlv in the
moiTung we set ofi* by an untrodden path, coming occasionally
on marshy spots towards two beautifully shaped hills. We
crossed brooks and pools, where the wild buUs, like hippo-
potamuses, were wallo■^^•ing, and looking upon us with theix-
wild red eyes.

The country grew flatter and more desolate ; the scarcity
of the buildings bespoke a sparing cultivation. At last, when
we were doubting whether Ave were passing through rocks or
ruins, some great oblong masses enabled us to distinguish the
remains of temples and other monuments of a once splendid

446 LETTERS FROiM ITALY.

city. Kniep, who had abeady sketched on the way the two
picturesque limestone hills, suddenly stopped to find a spot
&om which to seize and exhibit the peculiarity of this most
unpicturesque region.

A comitrjTnan, whom I took for my guide, led mc the mean-
while through the buildings. The first sight of them excited
nothing but astonishment. I found myself in a perfectly strange
world ; for, as centuries pass from the severe to the pleasing,
they form man's taste at the same time — indeed, create him
after the same law. But now our eyes, and through them
our whole inner being, has been used to, and decidedly pre-
possessed in favor of, a lighter style of architectm-e ; so that
these crowded masses of stumpy conical pülars appear heavy,
not to say frightful. But I soon recollected myself, called to
mind the histoiy of art, thought of the times Avhen the spirit
of the age was in tmison with this style of architecture, and
realised the severe style of scidpture ; and in less than an hour
found myself reconciled to it, — nay, I went so far as to thank
my genius for permitting me to see with my own eyes such
well-preserved remains, since drawings give us no true idea
of them ; for, in architectural sketches, they seem more ele-
gant, and in perspective views even more stumpy than they
actually are. It is only by going round them, and passing
thi-ough them, that you can impart to them their real cha-
racter ; you evoke for them, not to say infuse into them, the
very feeling which the architect had in contemplation. And
thus I spent the whole day, Kneip the while working away
most diligently in taking veiy accurate sketches. How de-
lighted was I to be exempt from that care, and yet to acquire
such unfailing tokens for the aid of memory ! Unfoi-tunately,
there was no accommodation for spending the night here.
We returned to Sorrento, and started early next morning for
Naples. Vesuvius, seen irom the back, is a rich country ;
poplars, with their colossal pyramids, on the road-side, in
the foreground ; these, too, formed an agreeable featm-e,
which we halted a moment to take.

We now reached an eminence. The most extensive area in
the world opened before us. Naples, in all its splendoui- : its
mile-long line of houses on the flat shore of the bay, the pro-
montories, tongues of land and walls of rock ; then the islands,
and, behind all, the sea, — the whole was a ravishing sight.

NAPLES AX APPAKITIOX. 447

A most hideous singing, or rather exulting cry and howl of
joy, from the boy behind, frightened and disturbed us. Some-
what angrily, I called out to him ; he had never had any
harsh words from us, — he had been a very good boy.

For a while he did not move ; then he patted me lightly on
the shoidder, and pushing between us both his right arm,
with the fore-finger stretched out, exclaimed, '• Signor, per-
donate J qiiesta e la mia patria!" — which, being interpreted,
nms, " Forgive me, Sir, for that is my native land !" And so
I was ra^^.shed a second time. Something like a tear stood
in the eyes of the phlegmatic child of the north.

Naples, March 25, 1787.

Although I saw that Kniep was delighted to go with me to
the festival of the Annunciation, still I could not fail to ob-
sers'e that there was a something he was sorry to part from.
His candoiu* could not let him long conceal from me the fact,
that he had formed here a close and faithful attachment. It
was a i^retty tale to listen to, the storv' of their first meeting,
and the description of the fair one's beha^•iom• up to this time
told in her favour ; Kniep, moreover, insisted on my going and
seeing for myself how pretty she really was. Accordingly, an
oppoitunity was contrived, and so as to afford me the enjoy-
ment of one of the most agreeable views over Naples. He took
me to the flat roof of a house, which commanded a suiTey of
the lower town, near the Mole, the bay, and the shore of Sor-
rento ; all that lay beyond on the left, became fore-shortened
in the strangest way possible, and which, except from this par-
ticidar spot, was never ^vitnessed. Xaples is, every where,
beautiful and glorious.

While we were admiring the country around, suddenly,
(although expected), a verj^ beautiful face presented itself above
the roof — for the enti-ance to these flat roofs is generally an
oblong opening in the roof, which can be covered, when not
used, by a trap-door. "WTiile, then, the little angel appeared in
full figure above the opening, it occurred to me that ancient
painters usually represent the Annimciation by making the
angel ascend by a similar trap-door. But the angel on this
occasion was really of a very fine form, of a veiy pretty face,
and a good natural carriage. It was a real joy to me, under

448 LETTERS FEO.M HALT.

the free heaven, and in presence of the finest prospect in the
world, to sec my new friend so happy. After her departure,
he confessed to me that he had hitherto vokmtarily endured
poverty, as by that means he had enjoyed her love ; and at
the same time, had learned to appreciate her contented dis-
position : and now his better prospects, and improved condi-
tion, were chiefly prized, because they procured him the means
of making her days more comfortable.

Naples, March 25, 1787.
After this pleasant little incident I walked on the shore,
calm and happy. There a good insight into botanical matters
opened on me. Tell Herder that I am very near finding
the primal vegetable type ; only I fear that no one will be
able to trace in it the rest of the vegetable kingdom. My
famous theory of the Cotyledons is so refined, that perhaps it
is impossible to go further with it.

Naples, March 26, 1787.

To-morrow this letter will leave this for you. On Thurs-
day, the 29th, I go to Palermo in the corvette, which formerly,
in my ignorance of sea matters, I promoted to the rank of a
frigate. The doubt whether I should go or remain made me
unsettled even in the use of my stay here ; now I have made
up my mind, things go on better. For my mental state this
joiu-ney is salutary — indeed necessary. I see Sicily pointing
to Africa, and to Asia, and to the wouderfid, whither so many
rays of the world's history are directed : even to stand stül is
no trifle !

I have treated Naples quite in its own style. I have been
anything but industrious. And yet I have seen a great deal,
and formed a pretty general idea of the land, its inhabitants,
and condition. On my return there is much that I shall have
to go over again ; indeed, only " go over," for by the 29th of
June I must be in Rome again. As I have missed the Holy
Week, I must not foil to be present at the festivities of St.
Peter's Day. My Sicilian expedition must not altogether draw
me ofi" from my original plans.

The day before yesterday we had a violent storm, with
thunder, Ughtning, and rain. Now it is again clear ; a glo-

NAPI.es DEPAETURE FOR SICILY. 449

rious Tramontane is blowing; if it lasts, we shall have a rapid
passage.

Yesterday I went with my fellow-traveller to see the vessel,
and to take our cabin. A sea voyage is utterly out of the
pale of my ideas ; this short trip, which will probably be a
mere coasting one, will help my imagination, and enlarge my
world. The captain is a young lively fellow ; the shij) trim
and clean, built in America, and a good sailer.

Here ever)' spot begins to look green ; Sicily, they tell me. I
shall find still more so. By the time you get this letter I shall
be on my retui-n, leaving Trinacria behind me. Such is
man ; he is always either anticipating or recalling ; I haA'e
not yet been there ; and yet I now am, in thought, back again
with you ! However, for the confusion of this letter I am not
to blame. Eveiy moment I am interrupted, and yet I would,
if possible, fill this sheet to the very corner.

Just now I have had a visit from a Marchese Berio, a young
man who appears to be well informed. He was anxious to
make the acquaintance of the author of " Werther." Generally,
indeed, the people here evince a great desire for, and delight
in, learning and accomplishments. Only they are too happy
to go the right way to acquire them. Had I more time, 1
would willingly devote it to observing the Neapolitans. These
four weeks — what are thev, compared with the endless variety
of life ?

Now, fare you well. On these travels I have learnt one
thing at least — how to travel well : whether I am learning to
live, I know not. The men who pretend to understand that art,
are, in nature and manner, too widely different from me, for
setting up any claim to such a talent.

Farewell, and love me as sincerely as I fi'om my heart re-
member you.

Naples, March 28, 1787.

These few days have been entirely passed in packing and
lea\e-taking ; with making all necessary an-angements, and
paying bills ; looking for missing articles, and with prepara-
tions of all kinds. I set the time do«-n as lost.

The Prince of Walbeck has. just at my departure, imsettled
me again. For he has been talking of nothing less than that I
should arrange, ou my return, to go with him to Greece and

Vol. H. 2 g

450 LETTEES FKOJI ITALY.

Dalmatia. WTien oue enters once into the world, and gives
way to it, it is necessary to be very cautious, lest one should
be carried away, not to say dj-iven mad by it. I am utterly
inca> -Jblc of addmg another syllable.

Naples, March 29, 1787.
For some days the weather has been very unsettled ; to-day,
(the appointed time for our sailing), it is again as fine as pos-
sible. A favourable north wind, a bright sunny sky, beneath
which one wishes oneself in the wide world ! Now I bid an
affectionate farewell to all my friends in Weimar and Gotha.
Your love accompanies me ; for wherever I am I feel my need
of you. Last night I dreamt I was again among old familiar
faces. It seems as if I could not unload my boat of phea-
sants" feathers any Avhere but among you. May it be well
loaded.

SICILY.

At Sea, Thursday, March 29, 1787.
A fresh and favourable breeze from the north-east is not blow-
ing this time, as it did at the last sailing of the packet. But,
unfortmiately, a direct head- wind comes from the opposite
quarter, the south-west — and so we are experiencing to our cost
how much the traveller by sea depends upon the caprice of the
wind and weather. Out of all patience, we whiled away the
morning either on the shore or in the coffee-house ; at last, at
noon we went on board, and the weather being extremely
fine, we enjoyed the most glorious of views. The corvette
lay at anchor near to the Mole. With an unclouded sun the
atmosphere was hazy, giving to the rocky walls of Sorrento,
which were in the shade, a tint of most beautiful blue.
Naples, with its living multitudes, lay in the full sunshine,
and glittered brilliantly with coimtless tints. It was not until
sunset that the vessel began slowly to move from her moor-
ings ; then the wind which was contrary drove us over to
Posilippo, and its promontory. All night long the ship went
qirietly on its way. She is a swift sailer, and was built in

THE VOYAGE TO SICILY. 451

America, and is well fitted with cabins and berths. The
passengers cheerful, but not boisterous. Opera-singers and
dancers, consigned to Palermo.

Friday, March 30, 1787.

By day-break we found ourselves between Ischia and Capri
— perhaps not more than a mile from the latter. The sun
rose from behind the mountains of Capri and Cape Minerva.
Kniep diUgcntly sketched the outhnes of the coasts and the
islands, and took several beautiful views. The slowness of the
passage was fevourable to his labours. We were making our
way but slowly mider a light side-wind. We lost sight of Vesu-
vius about four, just as we came in view of Cape 5liners'a and
Ischia. These, too, disappeared about evening. The sun set in
the sea. attended with clouds, and a long streak of light,
reaching for miles, all of a brilliant purple. This phenomenon
was also sketched by Kniep. At last we lost sight altogether
of the land, and the wateiy horizon surroimded us, the night
being clear, with lovely moonlight.

These beautiful sights, however. I could only enjoy for a few
moments, for I was soon attacked with sea-sickness. I betook
myself to my cabin, chose an horizontal position, and abstaining
from aU meat or drink, except white bread and red wine, soon
found myself pretty comfortable again. Shut out from the ex-
ternal world, I let the internal have fuU sway; and, as a tedious
voyage was to be anticipated. I immediately set myself a hea\y
task m order to while away the time profitably. Of all my papers
I had only brought with me the first two acts of " Tasso," written
in poetic prose. These two acts, as regards their plan and
evolution, were nearly similar to the present ones, but, written
full ten years ago. had a somewhat soft and misty tone, which
soon disappeared, while, in accordance with my later notions. I
made form more predominant, and introduced more of rhythm.

Safiirdat/, 3Iarch 31, 1787.
The sun rose this morning fi-om the water quite clear. About
seven we overtook a French vessel, Mhich had left Naples
t%vo days before us, so much the better sailer was our vessel j
stiU we had no prospect as yet of the end of our passage^
We were somewhat cheered by the sight of üstica, but, un*
2ct 2

45*2 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

fortunately, on our left, when we ought to have had it, like
Capri, on our right. Towards noon the wind became directly
contrary, and we did not make the least way. The sea began
to get rough, and every one in the ship was sick.

I kept in my usual position, and the whole piece wa.s
thought over and over, and through and through again. The
hours passed away, and I shoiüd not have noticed how they
went, but for the roguish Kniep, on whose appetite the waves
had no influence. When, from time to time, he brought me
some wine and some bread, he took a mischievous delight in
expatiating on the excellent dinner in the cabin, the cheer-
fulness and good nature of our young but clever captain, and
on his regrets that I was unable to enjoy my share of it. So,
likewise, the transition from joke and merriment to quabnish-
ness and sickness, and the various ways in which the latter
manifested themselves in the different passengers, afforded
him rich materials for humorous description.

At four in the afternoon the captain altered the course of
our vessel. The mainsails were again set, and we steered
direct for Ustica, behind which, to our great joy, we dis-
cerned the mountains of Sicily. The wind improved, and we
bore rapidly towards Sicily, and a few little islands appeared
in view. The sunset was murky, the light of heaven being^
veiled beneath a mist. The vrind was pretty fair for the
whole of the evening ; towards midnight the sea became very

rough.

Sunday, April 1, 1787.

About 3 in the morning a violent storm. Half asleep and
di-eaming, I went on with the plan of my drama; in the
mean time there was great commotion on deck ; the sails
were all taken in, and the vessel pitched on the top of the
waves. As day broke the storm abated, and the sky cleared
up. Now Ustica lay right on our left. They pointed out
to me a large turtle swimming a great distance off; by
my telescope I could easily discern it, as a living point.
Towards noon we were clearly able to distinguish the coast of
Sicily with its headlands and bays, but we had got very far
to the leeward, and tacked on and off. Towards mid-day we
came nearer to the shore. The weather being clear, and the
sun shining bright, we saw quite distinctly the western coast
from the promontory of Lilybseum to Cape Gallo,

THE VOYAGE TO SICILY. 453

A shoal of dolphins attended our ship on both bows, and
continually shot a-head. It was amusing to watch them as
they swam along, covered by the clear transparent Avaves at
one time, and at another springing above the water, showing
their fins and spine-ridged back, with their sides playing iu
the light from gold to green, and from green to gold.

As the land was dii-ect on oui- lee. the captain lay to in a
bay behind Cape GaUo. Kniep failed not to seize the oppor-
tunity to sketch the many beautiful scenes somewhat in detail.
Towards sunset the captain made again for the open sea,
steering north-east, in order to make the heights of Palermo.
I ventured several times on deck, but never intermitted for a
moment my poetical labours : and thus I became pretty well
master of the whole piece. With a cloudy sky, a bright but
broken moonlight, the reflection on the sea was infinitely
beautiful. Paintings, in order to heighten the eifect, generally
lead us to believe, that the reflection from the heavenly lumi-
naries on the water has its greatest breadth nearest to the
spectator, where it also possesses its greatest briUiancy. On
this occasion, however, the reflection was broadest at the
horizon, and, like a sharp pyramid, ended with sparkling
waves close to the ship. During the night our captain again
fi'equently changed the tack.

Monday, April 2, 1787,
This morning, about 8 o'clock, we found om-selves over
against Palermo. The morning seemed to me highly delight-
fid. Dm-ing the days that I had been shut up in my cabin, I
had got on pretty well with the plan of my drama. I felt
quite well now, and was able to stay on deck, and observe
attentively the Sicilian coast. Kniep went on sketching away,
and by his accurate, but rapid pencil, many a sheet of paper
was converted into highly valuable mementoes of our lauding,
which, however, we still had to wait for.

PALERMO.

Monday, April 1, 1787.
By 3 o'clock p.m., we at kst, after much trouble and dif-
ficult)', got into horbour, where a most glorious view lay

454 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

before us. Perfectly recovered from my sea-sickness, I enjoyed
it highly. The town facing north, lay at the foot of a high hill,
with the svm (at this time of day) shining above it. The sides of
the buildings which looked towards us, lay in a deep shade,
which, however, was clear, and lit up by the reflection from the
water. On oin- right Monte Pellegrino, with its many elegant
outlines, in full light : on the left the coast, with its baj-s, isth-
muses, and headlands, stretching far away into the distance ;
and the most agreeable effect was produced by the fresh green
of some fine trees, whose crowns, lit up from behind, sw'ayed
backwards and forwards before the dark buildings, like great
masses of glow-worms. A brilliant haze gave a blueish tint
to all the shades.

Instead of hurrying impatiently on shore, we remained on
deck till we were actually forced to land ; for where could we
hope soon to find a position equal to this, or so favourable a
point of view ?

Through the singular gateway, which consists of two vast
pillars, which are left unconnected above, in order that the
tower-high car of S. Rosalia may be able to pass through, on
her fomous festival, we were driven into the city, and alighted,
almost immediately, at a large hotel on our left. The host,
an old, decent person, long accustomed to see strangers of
every nation and tongue, conducted us into a large room, the
balcony of which commanded a view of the sea, wäth the
roadstead, where we recognised our ship, Monte Rosalia, and
the beach, and were enabled to form an idea of our where-
abouts. Highly satisfied with the position of our room, we
did not for some time observe that, at the farther end of it,
was an alcove, slightly raised, and concealed by cm-tains, in
which was a most spacious bed, with a magnificent canopy
and curtains of silk, in jjerfect keeping with the other stately,
but old fashioned, furnitm'e of our apartment. This display
of splendour made me uneasy; so, as my custom was, I
wished to make an agi'eement with my host. To this the old
man replied that conditions Avere unnecessary, and he trusted
I should have nothing to complain of in him. We were also
at liberty to make use of the ante-room, which was next to
our apartment, and cool, airy, and agreeable from its many
balconies.

We amused ourselves with the endless variety of A^iews,

SICILY PALERMO. 455

and endeavoured to sketcli them one by one in pencil, or in
colours, for here the eye fell upon a plentiful harvest for
the artist.

In the evening the lovely moonlight attracted us once more
to the roadstead, and even after our return riveted us for
some time on the balcony. The light was peculiar, — the
repose and loveliness of the scene were extreme.

Palermo, Tuesday, April 3, 1787.

Our first business was to examine the city, which is easy
enough to sm'vey, but difficult to know ; easy, because a street
a mile long, from the lower to the upper gate, from the sea
to the momitain, intersects it, and is itself again crossed,
nearly in its middle, by another. "WTiatcver lies on these
two great lines is easily found; but in the inner streets a
stranger soon loses himself, and without a guide wiU never
exti'icate himself from their labyrinths.

Towards evening oiu* attention was directed to the long
line of carriages, (of the well-known build,) in which the
principal persons of the neighbourhood were taking their
evening drive from the city to the beach, for the sake of the
fresh air, amusement, and perhaps also for intrigue.

It was fuU moon about two hours before midnight, and the
evening was in consequence indescribably glorious. The
northerlj* position of Palermo produces a very strange effect ;
as the city and shore come between the sun and the harbour,
its reflection is never observed on the waves. On this account,
though it was one of the very brightest of days yesterday, I
found the sea of a deep blue colour, solemn, and oppressive ;
whereas, at Naples, after noon-day, it gets brighter and
brighter, and glitters with more airy lightness, and to a
greater distance.

Kniep has to-day left me to make my pilgimages and obser-
vations by myself, in order that he might accurately sketch
the outline of Monte Pellegrino, the most beautiful headland
in the whole world.

Palermo, April 3, 1787.
Here again I must put a few things together, something
in the way of an appendix, and with the carelessness of
familiarity.

456 XETTERS FROM ITALY.

At sunset of the 29 th of March we set sail for Naples,
and at last, after a passage of fom- days and tliree hours, cast
anchor in the harbour of Palermo. The little diary which
I enclose, Avill give an account of oursches and oui- for-
tunes. I never entered upon a journey so calmly as I did
this, and never have I had a quieter time of it than during
our passage, which a constant headwind has unusually pro-
longed, even though I passed the time chiefly on my bed. in
a close little berth, to which I was obliged to keep during
the first day, in consequence of a violent attack of sea-
sickness. Now my thoughts pass over towards you; for if
ever anything has exercised a decided influence on my mind,
this voyage has certainly done so.

He who has never seen himself surrounded on all sides by
the sea. can never possess an idea of the world, and of his
own relation to it. As a landscape painter, this great simple
line has given me entirely new ideas.

During om* voyage we had, as the diaiy records, many
changes, and, on a small scale, experienced all a sailor's for-
tunes. However, the safety and convenience of the packet-
boat cannot be sufficiently commended. Our captain is a
very brave and an extremely handsome man. My fellow-
passengers consisted of a whole theatrical troop, well man-
nered, tolerable, and agreeable. My artist, who accompanies
me, is a merry true-hearted fellow. In order to shorten the
weary hom-s of the passage, he has explained to me all the
mechanical part of aquarell. or painting in water colours. —
an art which has been carried to a great height of perfection
in Italy. He thoroughly imderstauds the effect of particular
colours in effecting certain tones, to produce which, without
knowing the secret, one might go on mixing for ever. I had,
it is true, learned a good deal of it in Rome, but never before
so systematically. The artists must have studied and perfected
the art in a country like Italy or this. No words can express
the hazy brilliancy which hung arovmd the coasts, as on a
most beautiful noon we neared Palermo. He who has once
seen it will never forget it. Now, at last, I can understand
Claude Lorraine, and can cherish a hope that hereafter, in the
north, I shall be able to produce, from my soul, at least a
faint idea of these glorious abodes. Oh ! that only all little-
ness had departed from it as entirely as the little charm of

SICILY — PALERMO. 457

thatched roofs has vanished from among my ideas of what a
drawing should be. We shall see what this '"Queen of
Islands" ' can do.

No words can express the welcome — with its fresh green
mulberry trees, evergreen oleanders, and hedges of citron,
&.C. In the open gardens you see large beds of ranunculuses
and anemones. The air is mild, warm, and fragrant ; the
wind refreshing. The fuU moon, too, rose from behind a
promontory, and shone upon the sea ; — and this joyous
scene after being tossed about four days and nights on the
waves !

Forgive me if. with a stump of a pen and the Indian-ink
my fellow-traveller uses for his sketches, I scribble down
these remarks. I send them to you as a faint lisp ing murmur ;
since I am preparing for all that love me another record
of these, my happy hours. What it is to be I say not ;
and when you will receive it, that also it is o\it of my power
to tell.

Palertno, Tuesday, April 3.

This letter must, as far as possible, impart to you, my
dearest friends, a high treat ; it is intended to convey to you
a description of an unrivalled bay, embracing a vast mass of
waters. Beginning from the east, where a liattish headland
runs far out into the sea, it is dotted with many rugged,
beautiftilly-shaped, wood-crowned rocks, until it reaches the
fishing-huts of the suburbs ; then the town itself, whose fore-
most houses (and among them oui* own hotel) all look
towards the harbour and to the great gate by which we
entered.

Then it stretches westwards, and passing the usual landing-
place, v.-here vessels of smaller burden can lie to, comes next
to what is properly the harbour, near the Mole, which is the
station of all larger vessels ; and then, at the western point,
to protect the shipping, rises Monte Pellegrino, with its
beatiful contour, after leaving between it and the maiiüaud a
lovely fertile valley, which at its other end again reaches
the sea.

Kniep sketched away. I took, with my mind's eye, the
plan of the countiy — {ich scJicmatisirte) — with great delight;
^md now, glad to have reached home again, we feel neither

458 LETTEKS FEOM ITALY.

strength nor energy to tell a long story, and to go into par-
ticulars. Our endeavours must, therefore, be reserved for a
futiu-e occasion : and this sheet must serve to convince you of
om* inability adequately to seize these objects, or rather of
our presumption in thinking to grasp and master them in so
short a time.

Palermo, Wechiesday April 4, 1787.

In the afternoon we paid a visit to the fertile and delight-
ful valley at the foot of the Southern iSIountains. running by
Palermo, and through which the Oreto meanders. Here,
too, is a call for the painter's eye, and a practised hand to
convey an idea of it. Kniep, however, hastily seized an
excellent point of view at a spot where the pent-up water
was dashing down from a half-broken weil", and was shaded by
a lovely group of trees, behind which an uninterrupted prospect
opened up the valley, affording a view of several farm
buildings.

Beautiful spring weather, and a budding luxuriance, diffused
over the whole valley a refreshing feeling of peace, which our
stupid guide marred by his ill-timed erudition, telling us that
in former days, Hannibal had fought a battle here, and cir-
cumstantially detailing all the dreadful feats of war which had
been perpetrated on the spot. In no friendly mood I re-
proved him for thus fatally calling up again such departed
spectres. It was bad enough, I said, that from time to time
the crops should be trodden down, if not by elephants, yet by
men and horses. At any rate, it was not right to scare away
the peacefiü dreams of imagination by reviving such tumults
and hoiTors.

The guide was greatlj' surprised that I could, on such a spot,
despise classical reminiscences ; and I, too, could not make
him understand how greatly such a mingling of the past with
the present displeased me.

StiU more singular did our guide deem me, when at all the
shallow places, of which many were left quite cby by the stream,
I searched for pebbles, and carried off with me specimens of
each sort. I again found it difficult to make him imderstand
that there was no readier way of forming an idea of a moun-
tainous district like that before us, than by examining the
nature of the stones which are washed down by the streams.

SICILY PALERMO, 459

and that in so doing, the purpose was to acquire a right
notion of those eternally classic heights of the ancient world.

And, indeed, my gains from this stream were large enough :
I carried away nearly forty specimens, which, however, may
be comprised under a few^ classes. Most of these were of a
species of rock, which, in one respect, might be regarded as a
sort of jasper or hornblende ; in another, looked like clay-slate.
I found some joebbles rounded, others of a rhomboidal shape,
others of irregular forms, and of various colours. Moreover,
many varieties of th.e primeval limestone, not a few specimens
of breccia, of which the substratum was lime, and holding
jasper, or modifications of limestone. Rubbles of muschelkalk
also were not wanting.

The horses here are fed on barley, chaff, {hacherliny) and
clover. In spring they give them the green barley, in order to
refresh them — j^er rinfrescar is the phrase. As there are no
meadows here, they have no hay. On the hill- sides there
are some pasture-lands, and also in the corn-fields, as a third
is always left fallow. They keep but few sheep, and these
are of a breed from Barbary. On the whole thej- have more
mules than horses, because the hot food suits the former better
than the latter.

Tlie plain on which Palermo lies, as well as the districts of Ai
Colli, which lie without the city, and a part also of Baggaria,
have for their basis the muschelkalk, of which the city is built.
There are, for this purpose, extensive quarries of it in the
neighbourhood. In one place, near Monte Pellegrino, they are
more than fifty feet deep. The lower layers are of a whiter hue.
In it are found many petrified corals and other shell-fish, but
principally great scallops. The upper stratum is mixed with
red marl, and contains but few, if any, fossils. Kight above it
lies the red marl, of which, however, the layer is not very stiff.

Monte Pellegrino, however, rises out of all this ; it is a pri-
mary limestone, has many hoUows and fissui'cs, which,
although very irregular, when closely observed are found to
follow the order of the strata. The stone is close, and rings
when struck.

460 LETTERS rilOM ITALY.

Palermo, Thursday, April 5, 1787.

We have gone carefully through the city. The style of
architecture resembles for the most part that of Naples ; but
the public buildings, for instance the fountains, are still further
removed from good taste. Here there is no artistic mind to
regulate the public works ; the edifices owe both their shape
and existence to chance accidents. A fountain, which is the
admiration of the whole island, would, perhaps, never have
existed, had not Sicily furnished a beautiful variegated mar-
ble, and had not a sculptor, well practised in animal shapes
happened to be in favour precisely at the time. It would be
a difficult matter to describe this fountain. In a moderately-
sized site stands a round piece of masonry, not quite a staflF
high [Stock hoch). The socle, the wall, and the cornice are of
variegated marble. In the wall are several niches in a row,
from which animals of all kinds in white marble, are looking
with stretched-out necks. Horses, lions, camels, and elephants,
are interchanged one with another ; and one scarcely ex-
pects to find, within the circle of this menagerie, a fountain,
to which, through four openings, marble steps lead you down
to di-aw from the water, which flows in rich abundance.

The same nearly may be said of the churches, in which even
the Jesuits' love of show and finery is sm-passed — but not
from design or plan, but by accident — ^just as artist after
artist, Avhether sculptor or carver, gilder, lackerer, or worker
in marble chose, without taste or rule, to display on each
vacant spot his own abilities.

Amidst all this, however, one cannot fail to recognize a
certain talent in imitating natural objects ; for instance, the
heads of the animals around the fountains are very well
executed. By this means it is, in truth, that the admijation of
the multitude is excited, whose artistic gratification consists
chiefly in comparing the imitation with its living prototj'pe.

Towards evening I made a merry acquaintance, as I
entered the house of a small dealer in the Long Street, in
order to purchase some trifles. As I stood before the win-
dow to look at the wares, a slight breeze arose, which
eddying along the whole street, at last distributed through
all the windows and doors the immense cloud of dust which
it had raised. " By all the saints," I cried, "whence comes
all the dust of your town — is there no helping it ? In its

, SICILY PALERMO. 461

length and beauty, this street vies with any in the Corso
in Rome. On both sides a fine pavement, which each stall
and shop- holder keeps clean by interminable sweeping-,
but brushes eveiything into the middle of the street,
which is, in consequence, so much the dirtier, and with
every breath of wind sends back to you the filth which
has just before been swept into the roadway. In Naples busy
donkeys carry oflf day by day the rubbish to the gardens and
fanns. Why should you not here contrive and establish some
similar regulation?"

" Things with us are as they are,"' he replied ; " we throw
everything out of the house, and it rots before the door ; you
see here horse-dimg and filth of all kinds — it lies there and
dries, and returns to us again in the shape of dust. Against
it we are taking precautions all day long. But look, our
pretty little and ever-busy brooms, worn out at last, only
go to increase the heap of filth before our doors."

And oddly enough it Avas actually so. They had nothing
but very little besoms of palm-branches, which, slightly
altered, might have been really useful ; but as it was, they
broke off easily, and the stumps were lying by thousands in
the streets. To my repeated questioning, whether there was
no board or regulations to prevent all this ; he replied,
" A storj' is current among the people that those whose duty
it was to provide for the cleansing of oiu- streets, being men of
great power and influence, could not be compelled to disburse
the money on its la\vful objects ; and besides that there was
also the strange fact that certain parties feared that if the
dirty straw and dung were swept away, every one would see
how badly the pavement beneath was laid down. And so
the dishonesty of a second body would be thereby exposed.
"All this, however," he remarked, with a most humorous
expression, " is merely the interpretation which the ill-dis-
posed put upon it." For his part, he was of the opinion of
those who maintained that the nobles preserved this soft
litter for their carriages, in order that, when they take their
drive for amusement in the evening, they might ride at ease
over the elastic ground. And as the man was now in the
humour, he joked away at many of the abuses of the police, —
a consolatory proof to me that man has always humoiu" enough
to make merry with what he cannot help.

462 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

S. Rosalia, the patron saint of Palermo, is so universally
known, from the description which Brydone has given of her
festival, that it must assm-edly be agreeable to my fi'iends
to read some accoimt of the place and the spot where she si
most particularly worshipped.

Monte Pellegriuo, a vast mass of rocks, of which the
breadth is greater than the height, lies on the north-west
extremity of the Bay of Palermo. Its beautiful form admits
not of being described by words ; a most excellent view of it
may be seen in the Voyage Pittoresque de la Sicile. It con-
sists of a gray limestone of the earlier epoch. The rocks are
quite barren, not a tree nor a biLsh will grow on them ; even
the more smooth and IcA-el portions are but barely covered
with grasses or mosses.

In a cavern of this mountain, the bones of the saint were
discovered, at the beginning of tlie last century, and brought
to Palermo. The presence of them delivered the city from a
pestilence, and ever since S. Rosalia has been the Pati'on
Saint of the people. Chapels have been built in her honour,
splendid festivals have been instituted.

The pious and devout frequently made pilgrimages to the
mountain ; and in consequence a road has been made to it,
which, like an ancient aqueduct, rests on arches and columns,
and ascends zigzag between the rocks.

The place of worshijj is far more suitable to the humility of
the saint who retired thither, than are the splendid festivities
which have been instituted in honour of her total renimcia-
tion of the world. And perhaps the whole of Christendom,
which now, for eighteen hundred years, has based its riches,
pomps, and festival amusements, on the memory of its fir.-t
founders and most zealous confessors, cannot point out a holy
spot which has been adorned and rendered venerable in so
eminent and delightful a way.

When you have ascended the moimtain, you proceed to the
comer of a rock, over against which there rises a high waU of
stone. On tliis the Chm-ch and the monastery are very fineh"
situated.

The exterior of the church has nothing promising or in-
viting ; you open its door without any high expectation, but
on entering are ravished with wonder. You find yourself in
a vast vestibule, which extends to the whole breadth of the

PALERMO S. ROSALIA. 463

cliiu'cli, and is open towards the nave. You see here the
usual vessel of holj' water and some confessionals. The nave
is an open space, which on the right is bounded by the
native rock, and on the left by the continuation of the vesti-
biile. It is paved with flat stones on a shght inclination, in
order that the rain water may run off. A small well stands
nearly in the centre.

The cave itself has been transformed into the choir, without,
however, any of its rough natural shape being altered. De-
scending a few steps, close upon them stands the choristers'
desk with the choh- books, and on each side are the seats of
the choristers. The whole is lighted by the daylight, -sNhich
is admitted from the court or nave. Deej) witliin, in the
dark recesses of the cave, stands the high-altar.

As already stated, no change has been made in the cave ;
only, as the rocks drop incessantly with water, it was necessary
to keep the place dry. This has been efiected by means of tin
tubes, which are fastened to every projection of the rock, and
are in various ways connected together. As they are broad
above and come to a naiTOw edge below, and are painted of
a dull gi-een colour, they give to the rock an appearance of
being overgro\\"n with a species of cactus. The water is con-
ducted into a clear reservoir, out of which it is taken by the
faithful as a remedy and preventative for every kind of ill.

As I M^as narrowly observing all this, an ecclesiastic came
up to me and asked whether I was a Genoese, and wished a
mass or so to be said ? I replied upon this that I had come
to Palermo with a Genoese, who would to-morrow, as it was
a festival, come up to the shrine ; but, as one of us nmst
always be at home, I had come up to day in order to look
about me. Upon this he observed, I was at perfect liberty
to look at everything at my leisure, and to perform my devo-
tions. In particular he pointed out to me a httle altar which
stood on the left as especially holy, and then left me.

Through the openings of a large trelliss work of lattice,
lamps appeared bm-ning before an altar. I knelt do^^ii close
to the gratings and peeped through. Further in, however,
another lattice of brass wire was drawn across, so that one
looked as it were thi'ough gauze at the objects mthin. By
the light of some dull lamps I caught sight of a lovely female
form.

464 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

She lay seemingly in a state of ecstacj- — the eyes half-
closed, the head leaning carelessly on her right hand, which
was adorned with many rings. I could not sufficiently dis-
cern her lace, but it seemed to be peculiarly charming. Her
robe was made of gilded metal, which imitated excellently a
texture wrought with gold. The head and hands were of
white marble. I cannot say that the whole was in the lofty
style, still it was executed so naturally and so pleasingly that
one almost fancied it must breathe and move. A little angel
stands near her, and with a bunch of lilies in his hand ap-
l^ears to be fanning her.

In the meanwhile the clergy had come into the cave, taken
their places, and began to chant the Vespers.

I took my scat right before the altar, and listened to them
for a while ; then I again approached the altar, knelt down
and attempted to obtain a still more distinct view of the
beavitiful image. I resigned myself without reserve to the
charming illusion of the statue and the locality.

The chant of the priests now resounded through the
cave ; the water was trickling into the reservoir near the
altar ; while the over-hanging rocks of the vestibule — the
proper nave of the church — shut in the scene. There was a
deep stillness in this waste spot, whose inhabitants seemed to
be all dead — a singular neatness in a wild cave : the tinsel
and tawdry pomp of the Roman Catholic ceremonial, especially
as it is vividly decked out in Sicily, had here reverted to its
original simplicity. The illusion produced by the statue of
the fair sleeper — which had a charm even for the most
practised eye : — enough, it was with the gi-eatest difficulty that
I tore myself from the spot, and it was late at night before I
got back to Palermo.

Palermo, Saturday, April 7, 1787.
In the public gardens, which are close to the roadstead, I
have passed some most delightful hom'S. It is the most
wonderful place in the world. Regularly laid out by art, it
still looks a fairy spot ; planted but a short time ago, it yet
transports you into ancient times. Green edgings surround
beds of the choicest exotics ; citron-espaliers arch over low-
arboured walks ; high walls of the oleander, decked with
thousands of its red carnation-like blossoms, dazzle the eye.

SICILY — PALERMO. 465

Trees wholly strange and unknown to me, as yet witliout
leaf, and probably, therefore, natives of a still warmer climate,
spread out their strange looking branches. A raised seat at the
end of the level space gives you a survey of these cmiously
mixed rarities, and leads the eye at last to great basins in
which gold and silver fish swim about with their pretty
m.ovements ; now hiding themselves beneath moss-covered
reeds ; now darting in troops to catch the bit of bread which
has tempted them from their hiding place. All the plants
exhibit tints of green which I am not used to ; yellower and
bluer than are found with us. What however lent to every
object the rarest of charms was a strong halo which hung
around everything aHke, and produced the following singular
effect : objects which were only distant a few steps from
others, were distinguished from them by a decided tint of
light blue, so that at last the distinctive colours of the most
remote were almost merged in it, or at least assimied to the
eye a decidedly strong blue tint.

The ver}' singular effect which such a halo imparts to dis-
tinct objects, vessels, and headlands, is remarkable enough to
an artistic eye ; it assists it accurately to distinguish, and,
indeed, to measure distances. It makes, too, a walk on the
heights extremely charming. One sees Natxire no more :
nothing but pictures ; just as if a painter of exquisite taste had
arranged them in a gallery.

But these wonderful gardens have made a deep and lasting
impression on my mind. The black waves on the northern
horizon, as they broke on the irregular points of the bay — and
even the smell of the sea — all seemed to recall to my imagina-
tion, as well as my memory-, the happy island of the Phoeacians.
I hastened to purchase a Homer, and began to read this book
with the highest delight, making an impromptu translation of
it for the benefit of Kniep, who had well deserved by his
diligent exertions this day some agreeable refreshment over a
glass of wine.

Palermo, April 8, 1787.
{Easter Day.)
The morning rejoicings in the blissful Resurrection of the
Lord commenced with break of day. Crackers, wild-fires,
Vox,. II. 2 n

466 XETTEKS FKOM ITALY

rockets, serpents, &.C., were let off by wholesale in front of the
churches, as the worshippers crowded in at the open doors.
The chiming of bells, the pealing of organs, the chanting of pro-
cessions, and of the choirs of jiriests who came to meet them,
were enough to stun the ears of all who had not been used to
such noisy worship.

The early mass was scarcely ended, when two well-dressed
couriers of the Viceroy A'isited our hotel, with the double,
object of oflPering to all strangers his Highness"s congratula^r
tions on the festival, and to exact a douceur in retm'n. As I
was specially honoured with an invitation to dinner, my gift
was, of course, expected to be considerable.

After spending the morning in visiting the different churches,
I proceeded to the Viceroy's palace, which is situated at the
upper end of the citj-. As I airived rather early, I found
the grand saloon still empty ; there was only a little lively
man, who came up to me, and whom I soon discovered to be a
Maltese.

When he had learnt that I was a German, he asked if I
coukl give him any accoimt of Erfmi;, where he had spent a
very pleasant time on a short visit.

As he asked me about the family of the Däckerödes,
and about the Coadjutor von Dalberg, I Avas able to give
some account of them, at which he seemed much delighted,
and inquired after other people of Thuringia. With consi-
derable interest he then inquired about Weimar. " And
how," he asked, " is the person, who, full of youth and vivacity
when I was there, was the life of society? I have forgotten
his name, but he is the author of ' Werther.' "

After a little pause, as if for the sake of tasking my me-
mory, I answered, " I am the person whom you are inquir-
ing about." With the most visible signs of astonishment,
he sprung back, exclaiming, " There must have been a great
change then!" "O yes," I rejoined, "between Palermo
and Weimar I have gone through many a change."

At this moment the Viceroy and suite entered the apart-
ment. His carriage evinced that graceful freedom which
became so distinguished a personage. He could not refrain
from laughing at the Maltese, as he went on expressing his
astonishment to see me here. At table I sat by the side of the
Viceroy, who inquired into the objects of my journey j and>

SICILY — PALERMO. 467

assured me that he would give orders that everything in
Palermo should be open to my inspection, and that every
possible facility should be given me dming my tour through
Sicily.

Palermo. Monday, April 9, 1787.

This vp-hole day has been taken up -with the stupidities of
the Prince Pallagonia, whose follies are thoroughly different
from what one would foiTn an idea of either by reading or
heai-in-^; of them. For. with the slightest love of ti'uth. he who
wishes to furnish an account of the absui'd. gets into a dilemma ;
he is anxious to give an idea of it, and so makes it something,
whereas, in reality, it is a nothing -svhich seeks to pass for
something. And here I must premise another general reflec-
tion, viz., that neither the most tasteless, nor the most excel-
lent production comes entirely and immediately from a single
indi^^dual or a single age, but that with a little attention any
one may trace its pedigree and descent.

The fountain already described in Palermo belongs to the
forcfothers of the Pallagonian follies, only that the latter,
in their own soil and domain, develope themselves with the
greatest freedom, and on the largest scale.

When in these parts a country seat is built, it is usually
placed in the middle of a whole p'operty. and therefore, in
order to reach the princely mansion you have to pass through
cultivated fields, kitchen gardens, and similar rural conveni-
ences, for these southerns show far more of economy than we
northmen. who often waste a good strip of rich land on a park,
which, -with its barren shrubs, can only chaiTn the eye. But.
here it is the fashion to build two walls, between which you
pass to the castle. Arithout knoA^-ing in the least what is doing
on yom* right and left. This passage begins generally with a
grand portico, and sometimes with a vaulted hall, and ends
with the mansion itself. But. in order that the eye may not
be entirely without relief between these bye walls, they arc
generally arched over, and ornamented with scrolls, and also
with pedestals, on which, here and there, a vase is placed.
The flat surfaces are plastered, divided into compartments, and
painted. The com! is formed by a circle of one-storied
cabins, in which work-people of all sorts reside, while the
quadrangular castle towers over all.
2 H 2

468 LETTERS from: ITALY.

This is the sort of building which is here traditionallv
adopted, and -svhich probably Avas the old form, M'hen the
father of the present prince rebuilt the castle, not in the best,
but still in tolerable taste. But the present possessor, without
abandoning the general features of this style, gave free course
to his humour and passion for the most ill-shapen and taste-
less of erections. One would do him too much honom- by
giving him credit for even one spark of taste.

We entered, therefore, the great hall, which stands at the
beginning of the property, and found ourselves in an octagonal
room, of a breadth altogether disproportioned to its height. Four
vast giants with modern spatterdashes, which had just been
buttoned on, support the cornice, on which, directly meeting
the eye as you enter, is a representation of the Holy Trinity.

The passage to the castle is broader than usual, the wall
being converted into one continuous high socle ; from which
basement the strangest groups possible reach to the top,
while in the spaces between them several vases are placed.
The ugUness of these unshapely figures, (the bungling work
of the most ordinary mason,) is increased by their having been
cut out of a verj' crumbly muscheltufa, although, perhaps,
a better material would have made the badness of the form
still more striking to the eye. I used the word " groups" a
moment ago, but I have employed a false term, and most
inappropriate one for anything here. For they are mere
juxtapositions, determined by no thought, but by mere arbi-
trary caprice. In each case three fonn the ornament of a
square pedestal, their bases being so arranged as to fill up the
space by their various postures. The principal groups have
generally two figures which occupy the chief face of the
pedestal, and then two are yet wanting to fill up the back
part of the pedestal ; one of a moderate size generally repre-
sents a shepherd or shejDherdess — a cavalier or a lady — a
dancing ape or a hound. Still there is a vacant spot on the
pedestal ; this is generally held by a dwarf — as, indeed, in
dull jokes, this sort of gentry usually play a conspicuous part.

That we may not omit any of the elements of Prince
Pallagonia's folly, we give you the accompanying catalogue.
Men : Beggars, male and female, Spanish men and women,
Moors, Turks, hunchbacks, cripples of all sorts, strolling
musicians, pulcinellos, soldiers in ancient uniforms, gods.

PALEKMO — CASTLE OF COUNT PALLAGOXIA. 469

goddesses, gentlemen in old French costumes, soldiers with
cartouche boxes and gaiters, mythological personages (with
most ridiculous companions, Achilles and Charon, for instance,
with Punch). Animals (merely parts of them) : Heads of
horses on human bodies, mis-shapen apes, lots of dragons and
serpents, all sorts of feet under figures of all kinds, double-
headed monsters, and creatm-es with heads that do not belong
to them. Vases : All sorts of monsters and scrolls, which
below end in the hollows and bases of vases.

Just let any one think of such figures fiunished by whole-
sale, produced without thought or sense, and arranged without
choice or purpose— only let him conceive to himself this
socle, these pedestals and unshapely objects in an endless
series, and he will be able to sympathize with the disagreeable
feelings which must seize every one whose miserable fate
condemns him to run the gauntlet of such absm-dities.

We now approach the castle, and are received into a semi-
circular fore-court. The chief wall before us, through which
is the entrance-door, is in the castle style. Here we find an
Egj'ptian figure, built into the wall, a fountain without water,
a monument, vases stuck around in no sort of order, statues de-
signedly laid on their noses. Next we came to the castle
court, and found the usual round area, enclosed with little
cottages, distorted into small semicircles, in order, forsooth,
that there might be no want of variety.

ITie ground is, for the most part, overgro-mi Avith grass.
Here, as in the neighbourhood of a chmx-h in niins, are marble •
urns with strange scrolls and foliations, collected by his father ;
dwarfs and other abortions of the later epoch, for which, as yet
fitting places have not been found ; one even comes upon an
arbour, propped up with ancient vases, and stone scrolls of
various shapes.

The absurdities produced by such want of judgment ana
taste, however, are strikingly instanced by the fact, that the
window suls in these cottages are, without exception, obHque,
and lean to one side or the other, so as to offend and -\iolate all
sense of the level and perpendicular, which are so indispensable
in the human mind, and form the foundation of all architectural
propriety. And then, again, the edges of all the roofs are em-
bellished with hydras and little busts, with choirs of monkeys
playing music, and similar conceits. Dragons alternate with

470 I/ETTEBS FEOM ITALY.

deities : an Atlas, who sustains not the mundane sphere, but an
empty wine-barrel !

One hopes to escape from all this by entering the castle,
which, having been built by the father, presents relatively
a more rational appearance when viewed from the extej-ior.
But in vain, for at no great distance from the door, one
stumbles upon the laurel-crowned head of a Iloman emperor
on the body of a dwarf, who is sitting astride on a dolphin.

Now, in the castle itself, of which the exterior gives hope
of, at least, a tolerable interior, the madness of the Prince
begins again to rave. Many of the seats have lost their legs,
so that no one can sit upon them ; and if some appear to pro-
mise a resting-place, the Chamberlain warns you against them,
as having sharp prickles beneath their satin-covered cushions.
In all the corners are candelabras of porcelain china, which,
on a nearer view, you discover to be cemented together
out of different bowls, cups, saucers, &c., &c. Not a cor-
ner but some whhn peeps out of it. Even the un-
equalled prospect ovei- the promontory into the sea is spoiled
by coloured glass, which, by its false lights, gives either a
cold or a fiery tint to the neighbouring scenes. I must, also,
mention a cabinet, which is iidaid with old gold frames, cut
in pieces. All the hundred-fold carvings, all the endless
varieties of ancient and modena. more or less dust-stained
and time-injured, gilding, closely huddled together, cover
all the walls, and give you the idea of a miniatiu-e lumber-
room.

To describe the chapel alone, would reqiure a volume.
Here one finds the solution of the whole folly, which could
never have reached such a pitch in any but a bigoted mind.
How many monstrous creations of a false and misled devotion
are here to be found, I must leave you to guess for yourself.
However, I cannot refrain from mentioning the most outrageous :
a carved crucifix is fastened flat to the roof, painted after
nature, lackered, and gilded ; into the navel of the figure,
attached to the cross, a hook is screwed, and from the latter
hangs a chain, which is fastened to the head of a man who,
in a kneeling and praying postm-e, is suspended in the air,
and, like all the other figures in the church, is painted and
lackered. In all probability it is intended to serve as a t^'pe
of the owner's imceasing devotion.

SICILY— PALEEMO. 471

Moreover, the house is not finished internally. A saloon,
built by the father, and intended to be decorated with rieh and
%aried ornaments, but not tricked out in a false and oflensive
taste, is still incomplete : so that, it woidd seem, even the
boundless madness of the possessor is at a stand still.

Kniep's artistic feeling -was almost driven to desperation in
this mad-house ; and, for the first time in my life. I found him
quite impatient. He hiu-ried me away, when I wished to
take a note of. and to perpetuate the memory of these mon-
sti'ous absm-dities, one by one. Good-natiuredly enough, he
at last took a sketch of one of these compositions, which did. at
least, form a kind of group. It represents a woman with a
horse's head, sitting on a stool, and playing at cards, with a
cavalier, di-essed, as to his lower extremities, in the old
fashion, while his gray head is ornamented with a large wig
and a cro'mi. The statue reminded me of the ai'ms of the
house of PaUagonia, — a satjT, holding up a mirror before a
woman with a horse's head, which, even after all the strange
follies of its present head, seems to me highly singular.

Palermo, Tuesday, April 10, 17S7.

To-day we took a drive upthemoimtains to Mom-eale, — along
a glorious road, which was laid down by an abbot of this clois-
ter, in the times of its opulence and wealth : broad, of easy
ascent, trees here and there, springs, and dripping wells,
decked out with ornaments and scrolls, — somewhat Pallagonian
in style — but still, in spite of all that, reft'eshing to both man
and beast.

The monastery of S. JNIartiu. which lies on the height, is a
respectable building. One bachelor alone, as we see in the
case of Prince PaUagonia, has seldom produced any thing
rational ; but several together, on the other hand, have
effected the gi-eatest works, such as churches and monas-
teries. But perhaps these spiritual firateniities produced so
much, simply because, beyond most fathers of a family, they
could reckon with certainty on a nimierous posteritv.

The monks readily permitted us to view their collection of
antiques and natural objects. They contained many excellent
specimens of both. Om- attention was particularly fixed by
a medallion, with the^^wre of a yoimg goddess, which must

472 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

excite the rapture of eveiy beholder. The good monks would
willingly have given us a copy, but there was nothing
within reach which would do to make a mould.

After they had exhibited to us all their treasures, — not
without entering on an unfavorable comparison of their pre-
sent with their former condition. — they led us into a small
but pleasant saloon, from the balcony of which one enjoyed a
lovely prospect. Here covers were laid for us alone, and we had
a very excellent dinner to ourselves. When the dessert was
served, the abbot and the senior monks entered, and took
their seats. They remained nearly half an hour, during
which time we had to answer many questions. We took a
most friendly farewell of them : the younger brethren accom-
panied us once more to the rooms where the collections were
kept, and at last to our carriage.

We drove home Avith veiy different feelings from what we
did yesterday. To-day we had to regret a noble institution,
which was falling with time ; while, on the other hand, a most
tasteless imdertaking had a constant supply of wealth for its
support.

The road to S. Martin ascends a hill of the earlier lime-
stone formation. The rock is quarried and broken, and burnt
into lime, which is very white. For bm-niug the stone they
make use of a long coarse sort of grass, which is dried in
bimdles. Here too it is that the calorex is produced. Even on
the most ]n"ecip'tous heights lies a red clay of alluA^al origin,
which serve tie purposes of our dam-earth. — the higher it
lies the redder it is, and is but little blackened by vegetation.
I saw, at a distance, a ravine, where it was red as cinnabar.

The monastery stands in the middle of the limestone hill,
which is very rich in springs.

Palermo, Wednesday, April 11, 1787.
Having explored the two principal objects without the
city, we betook ourselves to the palace, where a busy courier
showed us the rooms, and their contents. To our great
horror, the saloon in which the antiques are generally placed
was in the greatest disorder, in consequence of the walls
being under the process of decoration. The statues were
removed from their usual places, covered with cloth, and pro-

SICILY PALERMO. 473

tectedby wooden frames ; so that in spite of the good will of
our guide, and some trouble on the part of the work-people, we
covdd only gain a very imperfect idea of them. My attention
was chiefly occupied with two rams, in bronze, which, not-
withstanding the unfavorable circumstances, highly delighted
our artistic taste. They are represented in a recumbent pos-
ture, with one foot stretched out before them, with the heads
(in order to form a pair) turned on different sides. Powerful
forms, belonging to the mythological family, and well worthy
to carry Piirixus and Helle. The wool, not short and crisp,
but long and flowing, with a slight wave, and shape most
true to nature, and extremely elegant — they evidently be-
longed to the best period of Grecian art. They are said to
have stood originally in the harbour of Syracuse.

The courier now took us out of the city to the catacombs,
which, laid out on a regular architectural plan, are anj-thing
but quarries converted into bmial places. In a rock of Tufa, of
tolerable hardness, the side of which has been worked level
and perpendicular, vaulted openings have been cut, and in
these again are hewn several tiers of sarcophagi, one above
the other : — aU of the natural material without masonry' of
any kind. The upper tiers are smaller, and in the spaces
over the pillars are tombs for children.

Palermo^ Thursday, April 12.
To day we have been shown Prince Torremuzza's cabinet
of medals. I went there in a certain degree against my -will.
I am too little versed in these matters, and a mere curiosity-
mongering traveller is thoroughly detested by all true con-
noisseurs and scholars. But as one must in ever}' case make
a beginning, I made myself easy on this head, and have
derived both gratification and profit from my visit, ^^^lat a
satisfaction, even cursorily, to glance at the fact that the old
world was thickly sown with cities ; the very meanest of
which has bequeathed to us in its jjrecious coins, if not a com-
plete series, yet at least some epochs, of its history of art.
Out of these cabinets, there smiles upon us an eternal spiing
of the blossoms and flowers of art — of a busy life, ennobled
with high tastes, aud of much more besides. Out of these
form-endowed pieces of metal the glory of the Sicilian cities,
now obscm-cd, still shines forth fresh before us.

474 XETTERS FROM PTALY.

ünfortunnteiy, wc in our youth had seen none but family
coins, which say nothing, and the coins of the Ccesars, which
repeat to satiety the same profile — -portraits of rulers, who are
to be regarded as any thing but models of humanity. How
sadly had our youth been confined to a shapeless Palestine, and
to a shape perplexing Rome ! Sicily and Nova Grecia give
me hopes again of a fresh existence.

That on these subjects I should enter into general reflections,
is a proof that as yet I do not understand much about them :
yet that, with all the rest, will in degrees be improved.

Palermo, Thursday, April 12, 1787.

Yesterday evening, a ■«•ish of mine was gratified, and that
in a very singular fashion. I v\-as standing on the pavement of
the principal street, joking at the window with the shop-
keeper, I formerly mentioned, when suddenly, a courier, tall
and well-dressed, came up to me, and quickly poked a
silver salver before me. on which were several copper coins,
and a few pieces of silver. As I could not make out what
it all meant, I shook my head, and shi'ugged my shoidders, the
usual token by which in this coimtry you get rid of those
whose address or question you either cannot, or do not wish, to
understand.

" ^^^lat does all this mean ?" I asked of my friend the shop-
keeper, who. with a very significant mien, and somewhat
stealthily, pointed to a lank and haggard gentleman, Avho,
elegantly dressed, was walking with great dignity and indif-
ference, through the dung and dirt. Frizzled and powdered,
wdth his hat under his arm. in a silken vest, Avith his sword
by his side, and haA"ing a neat shoe ornamented with a jewelled
buckle — the old man walked on calmly and sorrowfully. AU
eyes were directed towards him.

" It is the Prince Pallagonia," said the dealer, "who. from time
to time, goes through the city collecting money to ransom the
slaves in Barbarj'. It is true, he does not get much by his
collection, but the object is kept in memory ; and so it often
happens that those who, in thefr life-time, were backward in
giving, leave large legacies at their death. The prince
has for many years been at the head of this society, and has
done a great deal of good."

" Instead of wasting so much on the follies of his country

SICILY PAXEKMO. 475

house,"' I cried, "he might have spent the same large sum on
this object. Then no prince in the world would have
accomplished more."'

To this the shopkeeper rejoined : ''But is not tliat the way
with us all ? We are ready enough to pay for our ovra
follies. Our vii-tues for their support must look to the purses
of others."'

Falemio, April 13, 1787.

Comit Borck has ver^- diligently worked before us in the
mineralogy of Sicily, and whoever of the same mind visits
the island after him, must wiUingly acknowledge his obligations
to him. I feel it a pleasure, no less than a dutj-, to celebrate
the memory of my jiredecessor. And what am I more than
a forerunner of others yet to be, both in mv travels and life.

However, the industry of the Count seems to me to have
been gi-eater than his knowledge. He appears to have gone
to work with a certain reserve, which is altogether opposed to
that stem eai-nestness with which grand objects should be
treated.

Nevertheless, his essay in quarto, which is exclusively
devoted to the mineralogy- of Sicily, has been of gi-eat use to
me : and, prepai-ed by it. I was able to profit by my visit to
the Quarries which fonnerly, when it was the custom to case
the churches .and altars v^ixh. marbleand agate, were more busily
worked, though even now they are not idle. I purchased at
them specimens of the bard and soft stones : for it is thus that
they usually designate the marble and agate, chiefly because
a difference of price mainly depends on this difference of qua-
lit^-. But. besides these, they have still another for a material
Avhich is the produce of the tire of their kihis. In these, after
each burning, they find a sort of glassy flux, which in colour
varies from the lightest to the darkest, and even blackest blue.
' These Imnps are, like other stones, cut into tliin lamina, and
then pierced according to the height of theii- colour and their
purity, and are successfidly employed in the place of lapis
lazuli, in the decoration of churches, altars, and sepulchral
monuments.

A complete collection, such as I wished, is not to be had at
present ; it is to be sent after me to Naples. The agates arc
of the greatest beauty ; especially such as are variegated with

476 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

irregular pieces of yellow or red jasper, and ■with white, and as
it were frozen quartz, which produce the most beautiful effect.
A A^ery accurate imitation of these agates, produced by
lake colouring on the back of thin plates of glass, is the
only rational thing that I observed the other day among the
Pallagonian foUies. Such imitations are far better for decora-
tions than the real agate, since the latter are only found in
A'ery small pieces, whereas the size of the former depends on
nothing but the size of the artist's plate. This contrivance of
art well deserves to be imitated.

Palermo, April 13, 1787.

Italy without Sicily leaves no image on the soid : here is
the key to all.

Of the climate, it is impossible to say enough. It is now
rainy weather, but not uninterruptedly wet : yesterday it
thmidered and lightened, and to day all is intensely green.
The flax has in places ah-eady put forth joints — in others it is
boiling. Looking down from the hills, one foncies one sees in
the plain below little ponds : so beautifully blue-green are the
flax fields here and there. Living objects without number sui'-
round you. And my companion is an excellent fellow, the true
//o^e^i/^ (Hopeful) and I honestly sustain the part of the True
friend. He has afready made some beautiful sketches, and
will take still more before we go. ^^^lat a prospect — to re-
turn home some day, happy, and with all these treasures I

Of the meat and drink here, in the coxmtry, I have said
nothing as yet ; however, it is by no means an indifferent
matter. The garden stuffs are excellent, especially the
lettuce ; which is particulary tender, with a milky taste : it
makes one understand at once why the ancients termed it
lactnca. The oil and wine of all kinds verj' good ; and it
might be still better if more care were bestowed on its pre-
paration : — Fish of the very best and tenderest. We have had,
too, very good beef, though generally people do not praise it.

Now, after dinner, to the window ! — to the streets ! A
malefactor has just been pardoned — an event which takes
place every year in honour of the festival of Easter. The
brethren of some order or other led him to the foot of a
gallows, which had been erected for sake of the ceremony :
then the criminal at the foot of the ladder offers up a prayer or

SICILY PALEEMO. 477

two ; and ha^•ing kissed the scaffold, is led away again. He
was a good-looking fellow of the middle age. in a white coat,
white hat, and all else white. He carried his hat in his hand;
at different points they attached variegated ribbons to him,
8o that at last he was quite in tune to go to any masquerade
in the character of a shepherd.

Palermo, April 13 and 14, 1787.

So then, before my depailure, I was to meet with a strange
adventm-e, of which I must forthwith give you a ciiximistan-
tial account.

The whole time of mv residence here, I have heard scarcely
any topic of conversation at the ordinary, but Cagliostro, his
origin and adventures. The people of Palermo are aU
imanimous in asserting that a certain Joseph Balsamo was
bom in their citv, and having rendered himself infomous by
many disgraceful acts, was banished. But whether this person
is identical with the Count Cagliostro, was a point on which
opinions were divided. Some who knew Balsamo personally
asserted they recognized his featm-cs in the engraving, which
is well known in Germany, and which has also travelled as
far as Palermo.

In one of these conversations, one of the guests referred to
the trouble which a Palermitan lawyer had taken in examining
this matter. He seems to have been commissioned by the
IVench Ministry to trace the origin of an individual, who, in
the face of France, and, indeed, of the whole world, had had
the temeiity to utter the siUiest of idle talcs in the midst of
a legal process which involved the most important interests
and the reputation of the highest personages.

This lawv'er, it was asserted, had prepared the pedigree of
Giuseppe Balsamo, together with an explanatory memoir
and documentary' proofs. It has been forwarded to France,
where in all probability public use will be made of it.

As I expressed a wish to form the acquaintance of this lawyer,
of whom besides people spoke very highly, the person who had
recounted these facts offered to mention me to him and to in-
troduce me.

After a few days we paid him a visit, and found him busily-
engaged with his cHents. "When he had dismissed them and
we had taken a luncheon, he produced a manuscript which

478 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

contained a transcript of C'agliostro"s pedigree, and the ro\igh
(li'aught of the memoir which had been sent to France.

He laid the genealogy before me, and gave me the necessary
explanations, of which I shall here give you as much as is neces-
sary to facilitate the understanding of the whole business.

Giuseppe Balsamo's great-grandfather on his mother's side
was Matteo Martelio. The maiden name of his great-grand-
mother is unknown. The issue of this marriage was two
daughters ; Maria, who married Giuseppe Bracconerie, and
the grandmother of Giuseppe Balsamo — and Vincenza, mar-
ried to Giuseppe Cagliostro, who was born in a little village
called La Noava, about eight miles from Messina. (I must
note here that there are at this moment living at Messina
two bellfounders of this name.) This great aunt was sub-
sequently godmother of Giuseppe Balsamo, who was named
after his great uncle, and at last in foreign countries assumed
also the surname of this relation.

The Bracconerie had three children, — Felieita, Matteo, and
Antonia.

Felieita was maj-ried to Piedi-o Balsamo, who was the son
of Antonia Balsamo, ribbon dealer in Palermo, and probably
of Jewish descent. Piedro Balsamo, the father of the noto-
rious Giuseppe, became bankrupt, and died in his five-and-
fortieth year. His v,-idow, who is still living, had born him,
besides the above-named Giuseppe Giovanna — Giuseppe
Maria, who married Giovanna Battista Capitummino, who
begot three children of her body, and died.

The memoir, which Avas read to us by its obliging author,
and was at my request lent to me for a few days, was foimded
on baptismal and marriage certificates and other insti-uments
which he had with great diligence collected. It contains
pretty nearly (as I conclude from a compaiison with a sum-
mary which I then made) all the circumstances which have
lately been made better kno"\vn to the world by the acts of the
legal process at Rome, viz,, that Giuseppe Balsamo was bom
at Palermo, in the beginning of June. 1743, and that at his
baptism he was received back from the priest's arms by
Vincenza Cagliostro (whose maiden name was IN'Iartcllo) ; that
in his youth he took the habit of an order of the Brothers of
Mercy, which paid particular attention to the sick ; that he
soon showed great talent and skill for medicine, but that

PALERMO — COUNT CAGZIOSTKO. 479

for his disorderly practices he was expelled the order, and
thereupon set up in Palermo as a dealer in magic, and treasure
finder.

His great dexterity in imitating every kind of handwriting
was not allowed by him to lie idle. He falsified or rather
forged altogether an ancient document, by which the posses-
sion of some lands was brought into litigation. He was soon
an object of suspicion, and cast into prison ; but made his
escape, and was cited to appear under penalty of outlawry.
He passed through Calabria towards Rome, where he married
the daughter of a belt-maker. From Rome he came back to
Naples, mider the name of the Marchese Pellegrini. He
even ventm-ed to pay a visit to Palenno, was recognized, and
taken prisoner, and made his escape in a manner that weU
deserves being circumstantially detailed.

One of the principal nobles of Sicily, who possessed very
large property, and held several important posts at the
Neapolitan com-t, had a son, who to a frame of unusual
strength and an uncontrollable temper united all the wanton
excesses which the rich and great, without education, can
think themselves privileged to indulge in.

Donna Lorenza had managed to attract him, and on him
the pretended Marchese Pellegrini relied for impunity. The
Prince avowed openly his patronage of this couple of new
comers, and set no bounds to his rage when Giuseppe Balsamo,
at the instance of the party whom he had injured, was a
second time cast into prison. He had recourse to various means
to obtain his liberation ; and, when these were unsuccessful, in
the very ante-room of the President's court, he threatened the
advocate of the opposite party with the most dreadful conse-
quences if he did not consent to the release of Balsamo. As
the opposing advocate refused his consent, he nished upon
him, struck him, knocked him down and kicked him, and was
only with difficulty restrained from further violence when the
judge, hearing the noise, rushed in and commanded peace.

The latter, a weak and cringing character, had not the
courage to punish the wrong- doer ; the opposite party, advo-
cate and all, were men of little minds ; and so Ealsamo was
set: at liberty, without, however, any record of his liberation
being feimd among the proceedings — ueither by whose orders
or in what manner it was eifected.

480 LETTEKS FßOM ITALY.

Shortly after this ho left Palermo, and travelled in different
countries ; of which travels, however, the author of the
memoir had been only able to collect very imperfect infor-
mation.

The memoir ended with an acute argimient to prove the
identity of Balsamo and Cagliostro, — a position which was
at this time more difficult to prove than at present, now that
the whole history of this individual has been made public.

Had I not been led to form a conjecture that a public use
would have been made in France of this essay, and that on
my retui-n I shoidd find it already in print, I doubt not but I
should have been permitted to take a transcript of it, and to
give my friends and the public an early account of many inter-
esting circumstances

However, we have received the fullest account, (and even
more particulars than this memoir contains,) from a quarter
which usually is the source of nothing but errors. Who would
have believed that Rome would ever have done so much for
the enlightening of the y orld, and for the utter exposure of an
impostor, as she has done by publishing the summary of the
proceedings in this case ? For although this work ought and
might be much more interesting, it is nevertheless an excel-
lent docimient in the hands of every rational mind, who cannot
but feel deep regret to see the deceived, and those who were
not more deceived than deceivers, going on for years admiring
this man and his mummeries ; feeling themselves by fellow-
*;liip with him raised above the common mass, and from the
heights of their credulous vanity pitying if not despising the
sound common sense of mankind in general.

Who was not willingly silent all the while ? And even now,
at last, when the whole aifair is ended and placed beyond dis-
pute, it is only with difficulty that I can bring myself, in order
to complete the official account, to communicate some parti-
culars which have here become known to me.

AA'^hen I found in the genealogy so many persons (especially
his mother and sisters) mentioned as still li\'ing, I expressed
to the author of the memoir a wish to see them, and to form
the acquaintance of the other relatives of so notorious an indi-
vidual. He remarked that it would be difficult to bring it
about, since these persons, poor but respectable, and li%'ing
verj' retired, were not accustomed to receive visitors, and that

PAIiEKMO COUNT CAGLIOSTKO. 481

their natural suspicion would be roused by anj' attempt of
the kind. However, he was ready to send to me his copy-
ing clerk, who had access to the family, and by whose means
he had procvu'ed the information and documents out of which
the pedigree had been compiled.

The next day his amanuensis made his appearance, and ex-
pressed several scruples upon the matter. " I have, hitherto,"
he said, " carefully avoided coming within sight of these
persons. For, in order to get into my hands the certificates
of baptism and marriage, so as to be able to take legally
authenticated copies of them, I was obliged to have recourse
to a little trick. I took occasion to speak of some little family
property that was somehow or other unclaimed ; made it ap-
pear probable to them that the young Capitummino was entitled
to it ; but I told them that first of all it was necessary to make
out a pedigree, in order to see how far the youth could establish
his claim : that, however, his success must eventually depend
upon law proceedings, which I would willingly undertake on
condition of receiving for my trouble a fair proportion of the
amount recovei*ed. The good people readily assented to every-
thing. I got possession of the papers I wanted, took copies
of them, and finished the pedigree ; since then, however, I have
cautiously kept out of their sight. A few weeks ago old
Capitummino met me, and it was only by pleading the tardiness
with which such matters usually proceed that I managed to
excuse myself."

Thus spoke the copyist. As, however, I stuck to my pur-
pose, after some consideration he consented to take me to their
house, and suggested that it would bo best for me to give
myself out to be an Englishman, who had brought to the family
tidings of Cagliostro, who, immediately after his release from
the Bastile, had proceeded to London.

At the appointed hour — about two o'clock in the afternoon
— we set out on our expedition. The house was situated in
the corner of a narrow lane, not far from the great street,
" II Casaro." We aseendi d a few wretched steps, and entered
at once upon the kitchen. A woman of the middle size,
strong and broad, without being fat, was busy washing up the
cooking utensils. She was neatly and cleanly clad, and as we
entered, turned up the corner of her apron, in order to conceal
from us its dirty front. She seemed glad to sec my guide,

Vol. II. ' 2 I

482 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

and exclaimed, " Do you bring us good news, Signor Giovanni ?
Have you obtained a decree ?"'

He replied, " No ! I have not as yet been able to do anything
in our matter. However, here is a foreigner who brings you
a greeting from your brother, and who can give you an
account of his present state and abode."

The greeting that I was to bring did not exactly stand in
our bond. However, the introduction was now made. " You
know my brother ?"' she asked me. " All Europe knows him,"
I replied, " and I am sui'e you will be glad to hear that he is
at present safe and well ; for assiu-edly you must have been
in great anxiety about him." " Walk in," she said, " I
will follow you immediately;" and so, with the copying-
clerk, I entered the sitting- room.

It was spacious and lofty, and would pass with us for a
saloon. It seemed, however, to foi"m the whole dwelling of
the family. A single window lighted the large walls, which
were once coloured, and around which figui'es of the Saints —
taken in black — hung in gilt frames. Two large beds, without
curtains, stood against one wall, while a brox\ai press, which
had the shape of an escritoire, was placed against the oppo.site
one. Old chairs, with rush bottoms, the backs of which
seemed once to have been gilded, stood on each side of it;
while the bricks of the floors were in many places sunk deep
below the level. In other respects, everything was clean
and tidy, and we made our way towards the family, who
were gathered around the only large window at the other
end of the room.

^\Tiile my guide was explaining to the old widow Balsamo,
who sat in the corner, the cause of om- visit, and in consequence
of the deafness of the good old woman, had frequently to repeat
his words, I had time to observe the room and the rest of its
occupants. A you ig girl, of about sixteen years of age, well
grown, whose featm-es, however, the small-pox had robbed of
aU expression, was standing at the window ; by her side a
young man, whose unpleasant countenance, sadly disfigured
by the small-pox, also struck me. In an arm-chair, opposite
the window, sat, or rather reclined, a sick and sadly deformed
person, who seemed to be afflicted with a sort of torjjor.

When my guide had made himself understood, they com-
pelled us to sit down. The old woman put some questions to

PALERMO— COUXT CAGI.IOSTKO. 483

me, which I required to have interpreted before I could ansAver
them, as I was not very familiar with the Sicilian dialect.

I was pleased with the examination, which, during this con-
versation, I made of the old woman. She was of middle size, but
of a good figure ; over her regular features an expression of calm-
ness was difiused, which people usually enjoy who are deprived
of hearing ; the tone of her voice was soft and agreeable.

I an.swered her questions, and my answers had, in their
turn, to be interpreted to her.

The slowness of such a dialogue gave me an opportunity of
weighing my words. I told her that her son having been
acquitted in France, was at present in London, where he had
been well received. The joy which she expressed at this news
was accompanied with exclamations of a heartfelt piety, and now,
as she spoke louder and slower I could understand her better.

In the meanwhile her daughter had come in. and had
seated herself by the side of n^y guide, who faithfully re-
peated to her what I had been saying. She had tied on a
clean apron, and aiTanged her hair under a net. The more
I looked at her, and compared her with her mother, the more
surprised was I at the difference of their persons. A lively,
healthy sensibility spoke in every feature of the daughter ;
she was, in all probability, about forty years old. With
lovely blue eyes, she looked cautiously around, without,
however, my being able to tiace the least symptom of sus-
picion. As she sat, her figure seemed to promise greater
height than it showed when she stood up ; her posture
bespoke determination ; she sat with her body bent forwards,
and her hands resting on her knees. Moreover, her full,
rather than sharp profile, reminded me of the portraits of her
brother, which I had seen in engravings. She asked me
several questions about my travels : about my purpose in
visiting Sicily, and would persuade herself that I should most
assuredly come back again, and keep with them the Festival
of S. Rosalie.

The grandmother having, in the mean time, put some ques-
tions to me, while I was busied in answering them, the
daughter Avas speaking in a half Avhisper to my guide ; so
that my curiosity was stimulated to ask what they were talking
about. Upon this he s;aid. Donna Capitummino was just
telling him that her brother owed her fourteen oncie. In order
2 I 2

484 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

to facilitate his rapid departure from Palermo, she had re-
deemed some of his things which were in pawn ; but since
then she had not heard a word from him, nor received any
money, nor help of any kind, althovigh, as she had heard, he
})0ssessed great wealth, and kept a princely establishment.
Would I not engage on my return, at the first favourable
moment to remind him of this debt, and to get him to make
them an allowance — nay, would I not take a letter to him, or
at least frank one to him? I offered to do so. She asked me
where I lived ? and where she could send me the letter. I
aA'oided giving her my address, and engaged to call myself
lor the letter on the evening of the next day.

She then recounted to me her pitiable situation : she was
a widow, with three children : one girl was being educated in a
nunnery, the other was here at home ; and her son was gone
to school. Besides these three children she had her mother
on her hands, for whose support she must provide, and besides
0.11 this, out of chi-istian love she had taken into her house
the unfortunate sick person — and thus augmented her mise-
ries— all her industry scarcely sufficed to furnish herself and
children with the very barest necessaries. She well knew that
God would reward all such good works ; still she could not help
.sighing beneath the heavy burthen she had so long borne.

The young people joined in the conversation, and the dia-
logue became livelier. While I was speaking to the others
I heard the old woman ask her daughter if I belonged to
their holy religion. I was able to observe that the daughter
skilfully parried the question by asssm-ing her mother (as well
as I could make out her words) that the stranger appeared
well disposed towards them ; and that it was not proper to
qtiestion any one all at once on this point.

When they heard that I was soon to depart from Palermo,
they became still more urgent, and entreated me to come back
again at all events ; especially they praised the heavenly day
of S. Rosalie's festival, the like of which was not to be seen
or enjoyed in the world.

My guide, who for a long while had been wishing to get
away, at last by his signs put an end to our talk, and I pro-
mised to come on the evening of the next day, and fetch the
letter. My gmde expressed his satisfaction that all had gone
off so well, and we parted, well satisfied with each other.

You may imagine what impression this poor, pious, and well-

PALERMO COUNT CAGLIOSTBO. 485

disposed family made upon me. My curiosity was satisfied ;
but their natural and pleasing behaviour had excited my
sympathy, and reflection only confirmed my good will in
their favour.

But then some anxiety soon arose in my mind about to-
morrow. It Avas only natural that my visit, which at first
had so charmed them, woiüd. after my departure, be talked
and thought over by them. From the pedigree I was aware
that others of the family were still living. Nothing could
be more natm-al than that they shoidd call in their friends to
consvdt them on all that they had been so astonished to hear
from me the day before. I had gained my object, and now it
only remained for me to contrive to bring this adventure to a
favourable issue. I therefore, set off the next day, and arrived
at their house just after their dinner. They were surprised to
see me so early. The letter, they told me, was not yet ready ;
and some of their relatives wished to make my acquaintance,
and they would be there towards evening.

I replied that I was to depart early in the morning ; that I
had yet some visits to make, and had also to pack up, and
that I had determined to come earlier than I had promised
rather than not come at all.

During this conversation the son entered, whom I had not seen
the day before. In form and countenance he resembled his sister.
He had brought with him the letter which I was to take. As
usual in these parts, it had been written by one of the public
notaries. The youth who was of a quiet, sad, and modest
disposition, inquired about his uncle, asked about his riches
and expenditm-e, and added, " How could he forget his family
so long ? It would be the greatest happiness to us,'' he con-
tinued, "if he would only come back and help us :"' but he
further asked, " How came he to tell you that he had relations in
Palermo ? It is said that he everywhere disowTis us, and gives
himself out to be of high birth." These questions, which my
guide's want of foresight on our first visit had given rise to,
i contrived to satisfy, by making it appear possible that,
although his uncle might have many reasons for concealing
his origin from the public, he would, nevertheless make no
secret of it to his friends and familiar acquaintances.

His sister, who had stepped forward during this conversa-
tion, and who had taken courage from the presence of her
brother, and probably, also, from the absence of yesterday's

486 LETTERS FKOM ITALY.

friend, began now to speak. Her manner was veiy pretty and
lively. She earnestly begged me. when I wTote to her uncle,
to commend her to him : and not less earnestly, also, to come
back when I had finished my tour through the kingdom of
Sicily, and to attend with them the festivities of S. Rosalie.

The mother joined her voice to that of her children.
" Signor," she exclaimed, " although it does not in propriety
become me, who have a grown-up daughter, to invite strange
men to my house, — and one ought to guard not only against
the danger itself, but even against evil tongues, — still you, I
can assure you, will be heartily welcome, whenever you return
to our city."

" Yes ! yes ! "' cried the children, " we will guide the Signor
throughout the festival ; we will show him every thing ; we
will place him on the scaffolding from which you have
the best view of the festivities. How delighted will he be with
the great car, and especially with the splendid illuminations ! "

In the mean while, the grandmother had read the letter over
and over again. When she was told that I wished to take my
leave, she stood up and delivered to me the folded paper.
" Say to my son." she said, with a noble vivacity, not to say
enthusiasm, " tell my son how happy the news you have
brought me of him has made us. Say to my son, that I
thus fold him to ray heart," (here she stretched out her ai-ms
and again closed them over her bosom) — " that every day in
prayer I supplicate God and our blessed Lady for him ; that
I give my blessing to him and to his wife, and that I have
no wish but, before I die, to see him once again, with these
eyes, which have shed so many tears on his account."

The peculiar elegance of the Italian favoured the choice
and the noble arrangement of her words, which, moreover,
were accompanied with those very lively gestures, by which
this people usually give an incredible charm to every-
thing they say. Not unmoved, I took my leave ; they all
held out their hands to me : the children even accompanied me
to the door, and while I descended the steps, ran to the bal-
cony of the window which opened from the kitchen into the
street, called after me, nodded their adieus, and repeatedly
cried out to me not to forget to come again and see them. They
were stiU standing on the balcony, when I turned the corner.

I need not say that the interest I took in this family excited
in me the liveliest desire to be useful to them, and to help them

PALERMO COUNT CAGHOSTKO, 487

in their great need. Through me they were now a second
time deceived, and hopes of assistance, which they had no
previous expectation of, had been again raised, through the
cviriosity of a sou of the north, only to be disappointed.

My first intention was to pay them before my departure
these fourteen oncie, which, at his departure, the fugitive was
indebted to them, and by expressing a hope that he would repay
me, to conceal from them the fact of its being a gift from myself.
When, however, I got home, and cast up my accounts, and
looked over my cash and bills, I foimd that, in a country where,
from the M'ant of communication, distance is infinitely magni-
fied, I should perhaps place myself in a strait if I attempted to
make amends for the dishonesty of a rogue, by an act of mere
good nature.

The subsequent issue of this afiair may as well be here
introduced.

I set off from Palermo, and never came back to it ; but
notwithstanding the great distance of my Sicilian and Italian
travels, my soul never lost the impression which the inter-
view with this family had left upon it.

I returned to my native land, and the letter of the old widow,
turning up among the many other papers, which had come with
it from Naples by sea, gave me occasion to speak of this and
other adventures.

Below is a translation of this letter, in which I have pur-
posely allowed the peculiarities of the original to appear.

" My Deakest Son,

" On the 16th April, 1 787, I received tidings of you through
Mr. Wilton, and I cannot express to you how consoling it
was to me ; for ever since yovi removed from France, I have
been unable to hear any tidings of you.

" My dear Son, — I entreat you not to forget me, for I am
very poor, and deserted by all my relations but my daughter,
and your sister Maria Giovanna, in whose house I am living.
She cannot afford to supply all my Mants, but she does what
she can. She is a widow, with three children : one daughter
is in the nuimery of S. Catherine, the other two childi-en are
at home with her.

" I repeat, my dear son, my entreaty. Send me just enough
to provide for my necessities : for I have not even the neces-

488 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

sary articles of clothing to discharge the duties of a Catholic,
for my mantle and outer garments are perfectly in rags.

'• If you scud me anything, or even write me merelj' a letter,
do not send it by post, but by sea ; for Don Matteo, my bro-
ther (Bracconcri), is the postmaster.

" My dear Son, I entreat you to provide me with a tari
a-day, in order that your sister may, in some measure, be
relieved of the burthen I am at present to her, and that I
may not perish from want. Remember the divine command,
and help a poor mother, who is reduced to the utmost ex-
tremity. I give you my blessing, and press to my heart both
thee and Donna Lorenza, thy wife.

" Your sister embraces you from her heart, and her children
kiss your hands.

" Your mother, who dearly loves you, and presses you to

her heart.

44 73 7 ^ -j-iQ iToT ') " Felice Balsamo.

" i^alermo, Ajird 18, 1787.

Some worthy and exalted persons, before whom I laid this
document, together with the whole story, shared my emo-
tions, and enabled me to discharge my debt to this imhappy
family, and to remit them a sum which they received towards
the end of the year 1787. Of the effect it had, the following
letter is evidence.

'■'■Palermo, December 25, 1787.

" Dear and Faithful Brother,

" Dearest Sox,

" The joy which we have had in hearing that you are in
good health and circumstances, we cannot express by any
writing. By sending them this little assistance, you have
filled with the greatest joy and delight a mother and a sister
who are abandoned by all. and have to provide for two daugh-
ters and a son : for, after that Mr. Jacob Joff, an English mer-
chant had taken great pains to find out the Donna Giuseppe
Maria Capitummino (by birth Balsamo), in consequence of my
being commonly known, merely as Marana Capitummino, he
found us at last in a little tenement, where we live on a corre-
sponding scale. He infonned us that you had ordered a sum of
money to be paid us. and that he had a receipt, which I, your
sister, must sign — which was accordingly done ; for he imme-
diately ])ut the money in our hands, and the favorable rate of
the exchange has brought us a little further o-ain.

PALERMO — COUNT CAGLIOSTRO. 489

" Now, think with what delight we must have received this
sum, at a time when Christmas Day was just at hand, and we
had no hope of being helped to spend it with its usual festivity.

" The Incarnate Sa\"iour has moved your heart to send us
this money, which lias served not only to appease our himger,
but actually to clothe us, when we were in want of everji;hing.

"■ It would give us the greatest gratification possible if you
wovild gratify oiu* wish to see you once more — especially mine,
your mother, who never cease to bewail my separation from an
only son, whom I would much wish to see again before I die.

" But if, owing to circumstances, this cannot be, still do not
neglect to come to the aid of my miseiy, especially as you
have discovered so excellent a channel of communication, and
so honest and exact a merchant, who, when we knew nothing
about it, and when he had the money entirely in his own
power, has honestly sought us out and faithfully paid over to
us the sum you remitted.

"• With you that perhaps will not signify much. To
us, however, eveiy help is a treasm-e. Your sister has
two grown up daughters, and her son also requires a little
help. You know that she has nothing in the world ; and
what a good act will you not perform by sending her enough
to fm-ni.sh them all with a suitable outfit.

" May God preserve you in health ! We invoke Him in
gratitude, and pray that He may still continue the pros-
perity you have hitherto enjoyed, and that He may move youi"
heart to keep us in remembrance. In His name I bless you
and your wife, as a most affectionate mother — and I your
sister, embrace you : and so does your nephew, Giuseppe
(Brace ncri), who wrote this letter. We all pray for your
prosperity, as do also my two sisters, Antonia and Theresa.
" We embrace you, and are,
" Your sister, " Your mother,

who loves you, who loves and blesses you,

Giuseppe-Maria, who blesses you every hour,

Capitummtno, Felice Balsamo,

and Balsamo. and Braccoxeri."

The signatures to the letter are in their own hand-srating •
I had caused the money to be paid to them without sending auY
letter, or intimation whence it came ; this makes their mistake
the more natural, and their futiu-e hopes the more probable.

490 LETTERS FKOM ITALY.

Now, that they have been informed of the arrest and im-
prisonment of their relative, I feel myself at liberty to explain
matters to them, and to do something for their consolation.
I have still a small smn for them in my hands, which I shall
remit to them, and profit by the opportunity to explain the
true state of the matter. Should any of my friends, should any
of my rich and noble countrymen, be disposed to enlarge, by
their contributions, the sum I have already in my hands, I
would exhort them in that case to forward their kind gifts
to me before ]Michaelmas-day, in order to share the gratitude,
and to be rewarded with the happiness of a deserving family,
out of which has proceeded one of the most singular monsters
that has appeared in this century.

I shall not fail to make known the further course of this
story, and to give an account of the state in which my next
remittance finds the family ; and perhaps also I shall add
some remarks which this matter induced me to make, but
which, however, I withhold at present in order not to distui'b
my reader's fu'st impressions.

Palermo, April 14, 1787.

Towards evening I paid a visit to my friend the shop-
keeper, to ask him how he thought the festival was likely to
pass off"; for to-morrow there is to be a solemn procession
through the city, and the Viceroy is to accompany the host
on foot. The least wind will envelop both man and the sacred
symbols in a thick cloud of dust.

With much humour he replied : In Palermo, the people look
for nothing more confidently than for a miracle. Often before
now on such occasions, a violent passing shower had fallen
and cleansed the streets partially at least, so as to make a
clean road for the procession. On this occasion a similar
hope was entertained, and not without cause, for the sky was
overcast, and promised rain during the night.

Palermo, Sunday, April 15, 1787.
And so it has actually turned out ! During the night the
most violent of showers have fallen. In the morning I set cut
veiy early in order to be an eye-witness of the marvel. The
stream of rain-water pent up between the two raised pavements
had carried the lightest of the rubbish down the inclined street,
either into the sea or into such of the sewers as were not

PALERMO ITS STREETS. 491

stopped up, while the grosser and heavier dung was driven
from spot to spot. In this a singular meandering line of
cleanliness was marked out along the streets. On the morning
hundi-eds and hundieds of men were to be seen with brooms
and shovels, busily enlarging this clear space, and in order
to connect it where it was interrupted by the mire ; and
throwing the still remaining impurities now to this side,
now to that. By this means when the procession started, it
found a clear serpentine walk prepared for it through
the mud, and so both the long robed priests and the neat-
booted nobles, with the Viceroy at their head, were able
to proceed on their way unhindered and imsplashed.

I thought of the children of Israel passing through the waters
by the dry path prepared for them by the hand of the Angel,
and this remembrance served to ennoble what otherwise would
have been a revolting sight — to see these devout and noble
peers parading their devotions along an alley, flanked on each
side by heaps of mud.

On the pavement there was now. as always, clean walking ;
but in the more retired parts of the city whither we were
this day carried in pm-suance of our intention of visiting the
quarters which we had hitherto neglected, it was almost im-
possible to get along, although even here the sweeping and
piling of the filth was by no means neglected.

The festival gave occasion to our visiting the principal
church of the city and obser^•ing its curiosities. Being once on
the move, we took a round of all the other public edifices. We
were much pleased with a Moorish bviilding, which is in ex-
cellent preservation — not verj' large, but the rooms beautiful,
broad, and well proportioned, and in excellent keeping with the
whole pile. It is not perhaps suited for a northern climate, but
in a southern land a most agreeable residence. Architects
may perhaps some day furnish us with a plan and elevation of it.

We also saw in most imsuitable situations various remains
of ancient marble statues, which, however, we had not
patience to try to make out.

Palermo, April 16. 1787.

As we are obliged to anticipate om* speedy departure from
this paradise, I hoped to-day to spend a thorough holiday by
sitting in the public gardens ; and after studying the task I had
set myself out of the Odyssey, taking a walk through the valley,
and at the foot of the hill of S. Kosalie, thinkmg over again my

492 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

sketch of Nausicaa, and there trying •whether this subject is sus-
ceptible of a dramatic form. All this I have managed, if not
Avith perfect success, yet certainlj^ much to my satisfaction.
I made out the plan, and could not abstain from sketching
some portions of it which appeared to me most interesting,
and tried to Avork them out.

Palermo, Tuesday, Ajyril 17, 1787.
It is a real misery to be pm-sued and hunted by many
spirits ! Yesterday I set out early for the public gardens,
with a firm and calm resolve to realize some of my poetical
dreams ; but before I got within sight of them, another
spectre got hold of me Avhich has been following me these
last few days. INIany plants which hitherto I had been used
to see only in pots and tubs, or under glass-frames, stand
here fresh and joyous beneath the open heaven, and as they
here completely fulfil their destination, their natm'es and
characters became more plain and evident to me. In pre-
sence of so many new and renovated forms, my old fancy
occurred again to me : Might I not discover the primordial
plant among all these numerous specimens ? Some such
there must be ! For, otherwise, how am I able at once to
determine that this or that form is a plant unless they are aU
formed after one original type ? I busied myself, therefore,
Avith examining wherein the many varying shapes differed
from each other. And in every case I found them all to be
more similar than dissimilar, and attempted to apply my
botanical terminology. That went on well enough ; still I Avas
not satisfied ; I rather felt annoyed that it did not lead fiu--
ther. My pet poetical purpose Avas obstructed ; the gardens
of Antinous all vanished — a real garden of the world had
taken their place. Why is it that we moderns have so little
concentration of mind r Why is it that Ave are thus tempted
to make requisitions AA'hich we can neither exact nor fulfil r

Alcamo, Wedesday, April 18, 1787.
At an early hour, Ave rode out of Palermo. Kniep and the
Vetturino shoAved their skill in packing the carriage inside
and out. We droA-e slowly along the excellent road, with
which we had previously become acquainted during our
visit to San Martino, and Avondered a second time at the false
taste displayed in the fountains on the Avay. At one of these

ALCAMO. 49"

GUI' driver stopped to supply himself with M-ater according to
the temperate habits of this comitry. He had at startmg,
hung to the traces a small wine-cask, such as our market-
women use, and it seemed to us to hold wine enough for
several davs. We were, therefore, not a little surprised when
he made for one of the many conduitpipes. took out the plug
of his cask, and let the water run into it. "With true German
amazement, we asked him what ever he was about ? was not
the cask full of wine r To all which, he replied with great
nonchalance : he had left a third of it empty, and as no one in
this country drank unmixed wine, it was better to mix it at
once in a large quantity, as then the liquids combined better
together, and besides you were not sure of finding water
everywhere. During this conversation the cask was filled,
and we had some talk together of this ancient and oriental
wedding custom.

And now as we reached the heights beyond ^lou Reale, we
saw wonderfully beautiful districts, but tilled in traditional
rather than in a true economical style. On the right, the
eve reached the sea, where, between singular shaped head-
lands, and beyond a shore here covered with, and there desti-
tute of. trees, it caught a smooth and level horizon, perfectly
calm, and fomiing a glorious contrast with the wild and rugged
limestone rocks. Kniep did not fail to take miniatm-e out-
lines of several of them.

"NVe are at present in Alcamo, a quiet and clean little town,
whose well-conducted inn is highly to be commended as an
excellent establishment, especially as it is most conveniently
situated for visitois to the temple of Segeste, which lies out of
the direct road in a very lonely situation.

Alcamo, Thursday, April 19, 1787.
Our agreeable dwelling in this quiet town, among the
mountains, has so charmed us that we have determined to pass
a whole day here. We may then, before anything else, speak
of oiu" adventures yesterday. In one of my earlier letters,
I questioned the originality of Prince Pallagonia's bad taste.
He has had forerunners and can adduce many a precedent. On
the road towards Mon Reale stand two monstrosities, beside
a fountain with some vases on a balustrade, so utterly repug-
nant to good taste that one would suppose they must have
been placed there by the Prince himself.

494 LEXXEiis moM it.vly.

After passing Mon Reale, we left behind us the heantiful road,
and got into the rugged mountain country. Here some rocks
appeared on the crown of the road, which, judging from their
gravity and metallic incrustations, I took to be ironstone.
Every level spot is cultivated, and is more or less ])rolific.
The limestone in these parts had a reddish hue, and all the pul-
verized earth is of the same colour. This red argillaceous
and calcareous earth extends over a great space ; the subsoil
is hard ; no sand underneath ; but it produces excellent
wheat. We noticed old very strong, but stumpy, olive trees.

Under the shelter of an airy room, which has been built
as an addition to the wretched inn, we refreshed ourselves with
a temperate Imicheou. Dogs eagerly gobbled up the skins of
the sausages we threw away, but a beggar-boy drove them
ofl". He was feasting with a wonderful appetite on the parings
of the apples we Avere devouring, when he in his tm'n was driven
away by an old beggar. Want of work is here felt everywhere.
In a ragged toga the old beggar was glad to get a job as house-
servant, or waiter. Thus 1 had formerly observed that
whenever a landlord was asked for anything which he had
not at the moment in the house, he would send a beggar to
the shop for it.

However, we are pretty well provided against all such sorry
attendance ; for our Vetturino is an excellent fellow — he is
ready as ostler, cicerone, guard, courier, cook, and everything.

On the higher hills you find every where the olive, the
caruba, and the ash. Their system of farming is also spread
over three years. Beans, corn, fallow ; in which mode of
culture the people say the dung does more marvels than all
the Saints. The grape stock is kept down very low.

Alcamo is gloriously situated on a height, at a tolerable dis-
tance from a bay of the sea. The magnificence of the country
quite enchanted us. Lofty rocks, with deep valleys at theh*
feet, but withal wide open spaces, and great variety. Be-
yond ]\Ion Reale you look upon a beautiful double valley, in
the centre of which a hilly ridge again raises itself. The
fruitful fields lie green and quiet, but on the broad road-way
the Avild bushes and shrubs are brilliant with flowers — the
broom one mass of yellow, covered with its pupilionaceous
blossoms, and not a single green leaf to be seen ; the white-
thorn cluster on cluster ; the aloes are rising high and promis-
ing to flower; a rich tapestry of an amaranthine -red clover, of

SICILY SEGESTE. 495

orchids and the little Alpine roses, hyacinths, with unopened
bells, asphodels, and other wild flowers.

The streams which descend from Äl. Segeste leave deposits,
not only of limestone, but also of pebbles of hornstone.
They are very compact, dark blue, yellow, red, and brown, of
various shades. I also found complete lodes of horn, or fii-e-
stone, in the limestone rocks, edged with lime. Of such
gravel one finds whole hills just before one gets to Alcamo.

Segeste, April 20, 1787.

The temple of Segeste was never finished ; the ground around
it was never even levelled ; the space only being smoothed
on which the peristyle was to stand. For, in several places,
the steps are from nine to ten feet in the ground, and there is
no hill near, from which the stone or movild could have fallen.
Besides, the stones lie in their natural position, and no ruins
are found near them.

The columns are all standing ; two which had fallen, have
veiy recently been raised again. How far the columns rested
on a socle is hard to say ; and without an engra%'ing it is dif-
ficult to give an idea of their present state. At some points it
would seem as if the pillars rested on the fourth step. In that
case to enter the temple you would have to go down a step.
In other places, however, the uppermost step is cut thi-ough, and
then it looks as if the columns had rested on bases ; and then
again these spaces have been filled up, and so we have once more
the fii'st case. An architect is necessary to determine this point.

The sides have twelve columns, not reckoning the corner
ones ; the back and front six, including them. The rollers on
Avhich the stones were moved along, still lie around you on the
steps. They have been left in order to indicate that the temple
was unfinished. But the strongest evidence of this fact is the
floor. In some spots (along the sides) the pavement is laid
down, in the middle, however, the red limestone rock still
projects higher than the level of the floor as partially laid ; the
flooring, therefore, cannot ever have been finished. There is
also no trace of an inner temple. Still less can the temple
have ever been overlaid with stucco ; but that it was intended
to do so, we may infer from the fact that the abaci of the
capitals have projecting points probably for the purpose of
holding the plaster. The whole is built of a limestone, very
similar to the ü*avertine ; only it is now much fi-etted. The

496 LETTEKS FROM ITALY.

restoration which was carried on in 1781, has done much
good to the building. The cutting of the stone, with which
the parts have been reconnected, is simple, but beautiful.
The large blocks standing by themselves, which are mentioned
by Eiedesel, I could not find ; probably they were used for
the restoration of the columns.

The site of the temple is singular ; at the highest end of
a broad and long valley, it stands on an isolated hill. Sur-
rounded, however, on all sides by cliffs, it commands a very dis-
tant and extensive view of the land, but takes in only just a
corner of the sea. The district reposes in a sort of melancholy
fertility — every where well cultivated, but scarce a dwelling
to be seen. Flowering thistles were swarming with countless
butterflies, wild fennel stood here from eight to nine feet high,
di-y and withered of the last year's growth, but so rich and in
i-uch seeming order that one might almost take it to be an old
nm'sery-gi'ound. A shrill wind whistled through the columns
as if through a wood, and screaming bh-ds of prey hovered
around the pediments.

The wearisomeness of winding through the insignificant ruins
of a theatre took away from us all the pleasures we might
otherwise have had in visiting the remains of the ancient city.
At the foot of the temple, we found large pieces of the horn-
stone. Indeed, the road to Alcamo is composed of vast quantities
of pebbles of the same formation. From the road a portion of
a gravelly earth passes into the soil, by which means it is
rendered looser. In some fennel of this year's gro-\vth, I
observed the difference of the lower and upper leaves ; it is
still the same organisation that develops multiplicity out of
imity. They are most industrious weeders in these parts.
Just as beaters go through a wood for game, so here they
go through the fields weeding. I have actually seen some
insects here. In Palermo, however, I saw nothing but worms,
lizards, leeches, and snakes, though not more finely coloured
than ^^'ith us — indeed, they are mostly all gray.

Castel Vetrano,

Saiiirdmj, Ajjril 21, 1787.

From Alcamo to Castel Vetrano you come on the lime-stone,
after crossing some hills of gravel. Between precipitous and
barren limestone mountains, lie wide undulating valleys, everj'-
where tilled, with scarcely a tree to be seen. The gravelly
hills are full of large bolders. giving signs of ancient iuunda-

SICILY — SCIACCA. 497

tions of the sea. The soil is better mixed and lighter than,
any we have hitherto seen, in cünsequence of its containing
some sand. Leaving Salemi about fifiecn miles to our right, we
came upon hills of gypsum, lying on the limestone. The soil
appears, as we proceed, to be better and more richly com-
poimded. In the distance you catch a peep of the Western
sea. In the foreground the country is everywhere hilly. We
found the fig-ti-ees just budding, but what most excited our
delight and wonder was endless masses of flowers, which had
encroached on the broad road, and flom-ish in large variegated
patches. Closely bordering on each other, the several sorts,
nevertheless, keep themselves apart and recur at regidar inter-
vals. The most beautiful convolvoluses, hibiscuses, and mallows,
various kinds of trefoil, here and there the garlic, and the
galega-gestrauche. On horseback you may ride through this
varied tapestry, by following the numberless and ever-crossing
narrow paths which run through it. Here and there you see
feeding fine red-brown cattle, very clean-limbed and w^ith
short horns of an extremely elegant form.

The mountains to the north-east stand all in a line. A
single peak, Cuniglione. rises boldly from the midst of them.
The gravelly hills have but few streams ; very little rain seems to
fall here ; we did not find a single gully giving evidence of
having ever overflowed.

In the night I met with a singular incident. Quite worn
out, we had thrown om'selves on our beds in anything but a
very elegant room. In the middle of the night I saw above
me a most agreeable phenomenon — a star brighter, I think,
than I ever saw one before. Just, however, as I began to
take courage at a sight which was of good omen, my pati'on
star suddenly disappeared, and left me in darkness again.
At daybreak, I at last discovered the cause of the marvel :
there ^^•as a hole in the roof, and at the moment of my vision
one of the brightest stars must have been crossing my meridian.
This pmx'ly natural phenomenon was, however, interpreted by
us travellers as highly favourable.

Sciacca, Ajiril 22, 1787.

The road hither, which runs over notliing but gravelly hills,
has been mineralogically uninteresting. The traveller here
reaches the shore from which, at different points, bold Limestone

Vox,. II. 2 K

498 XETTERS FROM ITALY.

rocks rise suddenly. All the flat land is extremely fertile ;
barley and oats in the finest condition ; the salsola-kali is
here cultivated ; the aloes since yesterday, and the day before,
have shot forth their tall spikes. The same numerous vari-
eties of the trefoil still attended us. At last we came on a
little wood, thick with brushwood, the tall trees standing
very wide apart ; — the cork-tree at last !

Girgenti^ Apfil 23, 1787. Evening.

From Sciacca to this place is a hard day's ride. We ex-
amined the baths at the last named place. A hot stream
burst from the rock with a strong smell of sulphur; the
water had a strong saline flavour, but it was not at all thick.
May not the sulphureous exhalation be formed at the moment
of its breaking from the rock ? A little higher is a spring,
quite cool and without smell ; right above is the monastery,
where are the vapour baths; a thick mist rises above it
into the pure air

The shingles on the shore are nothing but limestone : the
quartz and hornstone have wholly disappeared. I have ex-
amined all the little streams : the Calta Bellota, and the
Maccasoli, caiTydowTi with them nothing but limestone; the
Platani, a yellow mai'ble and flint, the invariable companion
of this nobler calcareous formation. A few pieces of lava
excited my attention, but I saw nothing in this country that
indicated the presence of volcanic action. I supposed, there-
fore, they must be fragments of millstones, or of pieces
brought from a distance for some such use or other. Near
Monte Allegro, the stone is all gypsum and selenite ; whole
rocks of these occmTing before and between the limestone.
The wonderful strata of Calta Bellota !

Girgenti, Tuesday, April 2^, 1787.
Such a glorious spring view as we enjoyed at sunset to-day
will most assuredly never meet our eyes again in one life-
time. Modern Girgenti stands on the lofty site of the ancient
fortifications, an extent sufficient for the present population.
From oiu- window we looked over the broad but gentle declivity,
on which stood the ancient town, which is now entirely covered
with gardens and vineyards, beneath whose verdure it woiüd be
long before one thought of looking for the quarters of an ancient
city. However, towards the southern end of this green and

SICILY GIEGENTI. 499

flourishing spot the Temple of Concord rears itself, while on
the east are a few remains of the Temple of Juno. Other
niins of some ancient buildings, which lying in a straight line
with those already spoken of, are scarcely noticed by the eye
from above, while it hurries over them southwards to the
shore, or ranges over the level coxmtry, which reaches at
least seven miles from the sea-mark. To-day we were
obliged to deny ourselves the pleasure of a stroll among
the trees and the wild rockets and over this region, so
gi'een, so flovxrishing. and so full of promise for the husband-
man, because our guide, (a good-natured little parish priest,)
begged us before all things to devote this day to the town.

He first showed us the well-built streets ; then he took us
to the higher points, from which the view, gaining both in ex-
tent and breadth, was still more glorious, and lastly, for an
artistic treat, conducted us to the principal church. In it
there is an ancient sarcophagus in good preservation. The fact
of its being used for the altar has rescued from destruction the
sculptiu-es on it — Hippolytus attended by his hunting compa-
nions and horses, has just been stojDped by Pha-dra's nurse,
who wishes to deliver him a letter. As in this piece the
principal object was to exhibit beautiful youthful forms, the old
woman as a mere subordinate personage, is represented very
little and almost dwarfish, in order not to disturb the
intended effect. Of all the alto-relivoes I have ever seen, I do
not, I think, remember one more glorious, and at the same
time, so well preserved as this. Until I meet with a better
it must pass with me as a specimen of the most gi-aceful
period of Grecian art.

\N"e were carried back to still earlier periods of art by the
examination of a costly vase of considerable size, and in ex-
cellent condition. Moreover, many relics of ancient architec-
ture appeared worked up hei*e and there in the walls of the
modern chm*ch.

As there is no inn or hotel in this place, a kind and worthy
family made room for us, and gave up for our accommodation
an alcove belonging to a large room. A green curtain separated
us and our baggage from the members of the family, who. in the
more spacious apartment were employed in preparing maca-
roni, of the whitest and smallest kind. I sat down by the side of
the pretty childi-en, and caused the whole process to be ex-

2 k2

500 LETTERS IKüM ITALY.

plained to mo. and was informed that it is prepared from the
finest and hardest wheat, called Grano forte. That sort they also
told me fetches the highest price, which, after being formed into
long pipes, is twisted into coils, and by the tip of the fair
artistes fingers made to assume a serpentine shape. The
preparation is chiefly by the hand ; machines and moulds are
very little used. They also prepared for us a dish of the most
excellent macaroni, regietting. however, that at that moment
they had not even a single dish of the very best kind, which
could not be made out of Girgenti, nor indeed, out of their
house. What they did dress for me appeai'ed to me to be
unequalled in whiteness and tenderness.

By leading us once more to the heights and to the most glo-
rious points of view, our guide contrived to appease the rest-
lestness which dm-ing the evening kept us constantly out of
doors. As we took a survey of the whole neighbourhood, he
pointed out all the remarkable objects which on the moxTow
we had proposed to examine more nearly.

Girgenti, Wednesday, April 25, 1787.
With sun rise we took our way towards the plain, while at
every step the surrounding scenery assumed a still more
picturesque appearance. With the consciousness that it was
for our advantage, the little man led us, without stopping, right
across the rich vegetation over a thousand little spots, each
of which might have furnished the locale tor an idyllic scene.
To this variety of scene the unevenness of the country greatly
contributed, which undulated as it passed over hidden ruins,
Avhich probably were very quickly covered with fertile sou, as
the ancient buildings consisted of a light muscheltufa. At
last we arrived at the eastern end of the city, where are the
i-uins of the Temple of Juno, of which, everj' year must have
accelerated the decay, as the air and weather are constantly
fretting the soft stone of which it is built. To-day we only
devoted a cursory examination to it, but Kniep has already
chosen the points from which to sketch it to-morrow. The
temple stands on a rock which is now much woni by the
weather. From this point the city walls stretched in a straight
line eastwards, to a bed of limestone, that rises perpendi-
cular from the level strand, which the sea has abandoned,
after having shaped these rocks and long washed the foot of
them, Hewn partly out of the native rock, and partly built

SICILY GIRCxENTI. 501

of it were the walls of ancient Agrigentum. from behind which
towered a line of temples. Xo wonder, then, if from the sea
the lower, middle, and upper towns, presented together a
most striking aspect.

The Temple of Concord has withstood so many centuries;
its light style of architecture closely approximates it to our
present standard of the beautiful and tastcfid ; so that as com-
pared with that of Ptestum, it is. as it were, the shape of a
•god to that of a gigantic figure. I will not give utterance to
my regi'ets that the recent praiseworthy design of restoring this
monument should have been so tastelessly carried out. that the
gaps and defects are actually filled up with a dazzling white
g\'psum. In consequence this monument of ancient art
stands before the eye, in a certain sense, dilapidated and
disfigiu'ed. How easy it would have been to give the gypsum
the same tint as the weather- eaten stone of the rest of the
building ? In truth, when one looks at the muschelkalk of
which the walls and columns are composed, and sees how
easily it crumbles away, one"s only surprise is that they have
lasted so long. But the builders reckoning on a posterity of
similar religion to themselves, had taken precautions against
it. One observes on the pillars the femains of a fine plaster,
which would at once please the eye and ensure dm-ability.

Our next halt was at the ruins of the Temple of Jupiter.
Like the bones of a gigantic skeleton, they are scattered over
a large space, having several small cottages interspersed
among them, and being intersected by hedgerows, while
amidst them plants are growing of different sizes.

From this pile of ruins all the carved stone has disappeared,
except an enormous triglyph. and a part (jf a round pilaster of
cori'esponding proportions. I attempted to span it with out-
stretched arms, but could not reach round it. Of the fluting
of the column, however, some idea may be formed from the
fact that, standing in it as in a niche, I just filled it up and
touched it on both sides with my shoulders. Two-and-twenty
men arranged in a circle would give nearly the periphery of
such a colunm. We went away A\'ith the disagreeable feeling
that there was nothing here to tempt the draughtsman.

On the other hand, the Temple of Hercules still showed
some traces of its former symmetry. The pillars of the peris-
tjdes. which ran along the temple on its upper and lower
side, lie parallel, as if they had all fallen together, and at once.

502 LETTERS THOU ITALY.

from north to south — ^the oue row lying up the hill, the other
do^^nl it. The hill may have possibly been fonned by the
ruined cells or shrines. The columns, held together in all
probability by the architrave, fell all at once, being suddenly
thrown down, perhaps by a violent wind, and Hein regular order,
only broken into the pieces of which they were originally
composed. Kniep was ah-eady, in imagination, preparing his
pencil for an accurate sketch of this singular phenomenon.

The Temple of ^'Esculapius, lying beneath the shade of a
most beautiful carob-tree, and closely built upon by some mean
farm-buildings, presented, to our minds, a most agreeable aspect.

Next we went down to Theron's tomb, and were delighted
with the actual sight of this monument, of which we had seen
so many models, especially as it served for the foreground of
a most rare prospect ; for from west to east we looked on the
line of rocks on which lay the fragments of the walls, while
through the gaps of the latter, and over them, the remains of
the temples were visible.

This view has, under Ilackert's skilful hand, fm-nished a
most delightful picture. Kniep too, will not omit to make a

sketch of it.

Gh-genti, April 26, 1787.

When I awoke, Kniep was all ready to start on his artistic
journey, with a boy to show him the way, and to carry his
portfolio. I enjoyed this most glorious morning at the win-
dow, with my secret and silent, but not dumb friend by my
side. A devout reverence has hitherto kept me from men-
tioning the name of the Mentor whom, from time to time,
I have looked up and listened to. It is the excellent Von
Reidesel, whose little volume I carry about with me in my
bosom, like a breviary or talisman. At all times I have had
great pleasure in looking up to those whom I know to be
possessed of what I am most wanting in myself. And this
is exactly the case here. A steady purpose, a fixed object, di-
rect and appropriate means, due preparation and stoz'e of know-
ledge, an intimate connexion with a masterly teacher — he
studied under Winckelmami — all these advantages I am devoid
of, as well as of all that follows from them. And yet I caimot
feel angry with myself that I am obliged to gain by indirect
arts and means, and to seize at once what my previous exis-
tence has refused to grant me gradually in the ordinary way.
Oh that this worthy person could, at this moment, in the

SICILT GIKGENTI, 503

midst of his bustling world, be sensible of the gratitude with
which a traveller in his footsteps celebrates his merits, in
that beautiful but sohtary spot, which had so many charms for
him, as to induce the wish that he might end his days there.

Oblitnsque suorum obliviscendus et Ulis.

With my guide, the little parson, I now retraced our yes-
terday's walk, observing the objects from several points, and
every now and then taking a peep at my industrious friend.

My guide called my attention to a beautiful institution of
the once flourishing city. In the rocks and masses of masonry,
which stand for bulwarks of the ancient Agrigeutum, are
found gi-aves, probably intended for the resting place of the
brave and good. Where could they more fitly have been
buried, for the sake of their own glory, or for perpetuating
a vivid emulation of their great and good deeds !

In the space between the walls aud the sea there are still
standing the remains of an ancient temple, which are pre-
served as a Chiistian chapel. Here also are found round
puasters, worked up with, and beautifally imited to the
square blocks of the wall, so as to produce an agreeable eflfect
to the eye. One fancies that one here discerns the veiy spot
where the Doric style reached its perfection.

Many an insignificant monument of antiquity was cm'sorily
glanced at ; but more attention was paid to the modern way
of keeping the corn under the earth in gi-eat vaulted cham-
bers. Of the civil and ecclesiastical condition of the city, my
guide gave me much information ; but I heard of nothing that
showed any signs of improvement. The conversation suited
well with the ruins, which the elements are still preying upon.

The strata of the muschclkalk all incline towards the sea, —
banks of rock strangely eaten away from beneath aud behind,
while the upper and front portions still remain, looking like
pendant fringes.

Great hatred is here felt against the French, because they
have made peace with the people of Barbary. They are even
charged with betraying the Christians to the infidels.

From the sea there was an ancient gateway, which was
cut thi-ough the solid rock. The fovmdation of the walls,
•which are still standing, rests as it were on steps in the rocks.

504 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

Our cicerone is Don Michaele Vella, antiquaiy, residing at
the house of Sio-nore Cerio, near S. Maria's.

In planting the marsh-beans they proceed in the following
way : — Holes are made in the earth at a convenient distance
from each other, and a handful of dung is thrown in. A
shower is then waited for, after wh'ch they put in the seed.
The people here burn the bean-hauims, and wash their linen
with the ashes. They never make use of soap. The oviter
shells of almonds are likewise burnt and used instead of
soda. They first of all wash the clothes with pure water,
and then with the ley of these ashes.

The succession of their crops is, beans, wheat, and tu-
menia. By beans I mean the marsh-bean. Their wheat is
wonderfully fine. Tumenia, of which the name is derived
from bimenia or trimenia. is a glorious gift of Ceres. It is a
species of spring wheat, which is matured within three months.
It is sown at different times, from the first of January to
June, so that for a certain period there is always a crop ripe.
It requires neither much rain nor great warmth. At first it
has a very delicate leaf, but in its growth it soon overtakes
the wheat, and at last is very strong. Wheat is sovra in
October and November, and ripens in June. The barley
sown in November is ripe by the first of Jime. Near the
coast it ripens sooner, but on the moimtains more slowly.

The flax is already ripe. The acanthus has imrolled its
splendid leaves. The Salsala fniticosa is growing luxuriantly.

On the uncultivated hills grows a rich sanfoin. It is farmed
out, and then carried into the town in small bundles. In the
same way the oats which are weeded out of the wheat, are
done up for sale.

For the sake of irrigation, they make \cvy pretty di\dsions
with edgings in the plots where they plant their cabbages.

The figs have put forth all their leaves, and the fruit is set.
They are generally ripe by midsummer, when the tree sets its
fruit again. The almond trees are well loaded ; a sheltered
carob-tree has produced nvimberless pods. The grapes for the
Table are trained on arbours supported by high props. Melons
set in March and ripen by June. Among the ruins of Jupiter's
temple they thrive vigorously without a trace of moisture.

SICILY GIKGEXTI. 505

Our vetturino eats with great zest raw artichokes and the
turnip-cabbage. However, it is necessary to add that they
are tenderer and more delicate than with us. When you
walk through the fields the farmers allow you to take as
many of the young beans, or other crops, as you like.

As my attention was caught by some hard black stones,
which looked like lava, my antiquary observed that they were
from ^Etna ; and that at the harbour, or rather landing-place,
manv similar ones were to be found.

Of birds there are not many kinds native here : quails are
the most common. The birds of passage are, nightingales,
larks, and swallows. The Rinnine — small black birds, which
•come from the Levant — hatch their young in Sicily, and then
go further or retire. The Ridene come in December or Janu-
ary, and after alighting and resting awhile on Acragas, take
their flight towards the mountains.

Of the vase in the cathedral one word more. The figures
in relief on it are, a hero in full armour, seemingly a stranger,
before an old man whom a crown and sceptre, point out
to be a king. Behind the latter stands a female figure,
with her head slightly inclined, and her hand under her
chin — a posture indicating thouglitful attention. Right op-
posite to her, and behind the hero, is an old man who also
wears a crown, and is speaking to a man armed with a spear,
probably one of the body-guard, of the former royal personage.
This old man would appear- to have introduced the hero, and
to be saying to the guard, " Jiistlet him speak to the king ; he
is a brave man."

Red seems to be the ground of the vase, the black to be laid
on. It is only in the female's robe that red seems to be laid

on the black.

Girgenti, Friday, April 27, 1787.

If Kniep is to finish all he proposes, he must sketch away
incessantly. In the meantime I walk about with my little
antiquary. We took a walk towards the sea, from which
Agrigentum must, as the ancients asserted, have looked
extremely well. Our view was turned to the billowy exj^anse,
and my guide called my attention to a broad streak of clouds
towards the south, which, like a ridge of hills, seemed to rest

•506 LETXEES PEOM ITALY.

on the line of the horizon. " This," he said, " iodicated the
coast of Aii'ica." About the same time another phenomenon
struck me as singular. It was a raiubow in a light cloud,
which, resting Avilh one limb on Sicily, tkrew its arch high
against the clear sky, and appeared to rest with the other on.
the sea. Beautifully tinted by the setting sun, and shewing
but little movement, it was to the eye an object as rare as it
was agreeable. This bow, I was assured, was exactly in the
dii"ection of Malta, aud in all probability its other limb rested
on that island. The phenomenon. I was told, was of common
occvn-rence. It would be singular if the attractive force of these
two islands should thus manifest itself even in the atmosphere.

This conversation excited again the question I had so often
asked myself: whether I ought to give up all idea of visiting
Malta. The difficulties and dangers, however, which had
been ah'cady well considered, remained the same ; and we,
therefore, resolved to engage our vettuiino to take us to
Messina.

But, in the meantime, a strange and peculiar whim was to
determine our future movements. For instance, in my tra-
vels through Sicily, I had, as yet seen but few districts rich in
com : moreover, the horizon had everywhere been confined
by nearer or remoter lines of hills, so that the island appeared
to be utterly devoid of level plains, aud I found it impossible
to conceive why Ceres had so highly favoured this island. As I
sought for information on this point, I was answered that, in
order to see this, I ought, instead of going to Syracuse, to
travel across the island, in which case I should see corn-fields
in abundance. We followed this temptation, of giving up
Syracuse, especially as I was well aware that of this once glori-
ous citj' scarcely anything but its splendid name remained.
And, at any rate, it was easy to visit it from Catania,

Caltanisetta, Saturdai/, April 2^, 1787.
At last, we are able to understand how Sicily gained
the honourable title of the Granarj' of Italy. Shortly after
leaving Girgenti, the fertile district commenced. It does
not consist of a single great plain, but of the sides of
mountains and huls, gently inclined towards each other,
everywhere planted with wheat, or barley which present
to the eye an unbroken mass of vegetation. Every spot
of earth suited to these crops is so put to use and so

SICIXY CALTAXISETTA. 507

jealously looked after, that not a tree is anywhere to be
seen. Indeed, the little villages and farm-houses all lie on
the ridges of the hills, where a row of limestone rocks, which
often appear on the surface, renders the groutid unfit for
tillage. Here the females reside throughout the year, busily
employed in spinning and weaving ; but the males, while
the work in the fields is going on. spend only Satm-day and
Sunday at home, staying away at theii- work duiing the other
days, and spending theii- nights imder temporary straw-sheds.

And so our wish was gratified — even to satiety ; we almost
wished for the winged car of Triptolemus to escape from the
monotony of the scene.

After a long di-ive under the hot sun. through this wilder-
ness of fertility, we were glad enough when, at last, we
reached the well-situated and well-built Caltanisetta : where,
however, we had again to look in vain for a tolerable inn.
The mules are housed in fine vaulted stables ; the grooms
sleep on the heaps of clover which are intended for the
animals" food ; but the stranger has to look out for and to
prepare his own lodging. If, by chance, he can hii-e a room,
it has first of all to be swept out and cleaned. Stools or
chah-s, there are none : the only seats to be had are low little
fonns of hard wood : tables are not to be thought of.

If you wish to convert these forms into a bedstead, you
must send to a joiner, and hire as many planks as you want.
The lai-ge leathern bag, which Hackert lent me, was of good
use now, and was, by way of anticipation, filled with chalF.

But, before all things, provisions must be made for yom-
meals. On our road we had bought a fowl ; our vetturino
ran ofi" to purchase some rice. salt, and spice. As, however,
he had never been here before, he was for a long time in a
perplexity for a place to cook om- meal in. as in the posthouse
itself there was no possibility of doing it. At last, an old
man of the town agreed for a fail- recompence to provide us
with a hearth together with fuel, and cooking and table utensds.
While our dinner was cooking, he imdertook to guide us round
the town, and finally to the market-house, where the principal
inhabitants, after the ancient fashion, met to talk together,
and also to hear what we or other strangers might say.

We were obliged to tiük to them of Frederick the Second,
and their interest in this great king was such that we thought it
ad\isable to keep back the fact of his death, lest our being

508 T.ETTEKS FRO:\r ITALY.

the bearers of sucli untoward news should render us unwel-
come to our hosts.

Caltm^isetta, Saturday, April 28, 1787.

Geology by way of an appendix ! From Girgenti. the mus-
cheikalk rocks ; there also appeared a streak of whitish earth,
which afterwards we accovmted for : the older limestone forma-
tion again occurs, with gypsum lying immediately upon it.
Broad flat vallies ; cultivated almost up to the top of the hill-
side, and often quite over it : the older limestone mixed with
crumbled gypsum. After this appears a looser, yellowish,
easily crumbling, limestone ; in the arable fields you distinctly
recognize its colour, which often passes into darker, indeed
occasionally violet shades. About half-way the gypsum again
recurs. On it you see, growing in many places, a beautifid
violet, almost rosy red sedum, and on the limestone rocks a
beautiful yellow moss.

This very crumbling limestone often shows itself; but most
prominently in the neighboiu'hood of Caltanisetta, where
it lies in strata, containing a few fossils ; there its appearance
is reddish, almost of a vermilion tint, with little of the violet
hue, which we formerly observed near San Martino.

Pebbles of quartz I only observed at a spot about half-way
on our journey, in a valley which, shut in on three sides, is
open towards the east, and consequently also towards the sea.

On the left, the high mountain in the distance, near Came-
rata, was remarkable, as also was another looking like a
propped up cone. For the greatest half of the way not a tree
was to be seen. The crops looked glorious, though they were
not so high as they were in the neighbom-hood of Girgenti
and near the coast ; however, as clean as possible. In the fields
of corn, which stretched further than the eye covdd reach, not
a weed to be seen. At first we saw nothing but green fields,
then some ploughed lands, and lastly, in the moister spots,
little patches of wheat, close to Girgenti. We saw apples
and pears everywhere else ; on the heights, and in the vicinity
of a few little villages, some fig-trees.

These thirty miles, together with all that I could dis-
tinguish, either on the right or left of us, was limestone of
earlier or later formations, with gypsum here and there. It
is to the crumbling and elaboration ol' these three together by
the atmosphere that this district is indebted for its fertility.

SICILY CASTRO GIOVANNI. 509

It must contain but verj* little sand, for it scarcely grates
between the teeth. A conjecture of mine "with regard to
the river Achates must wait for the morrow to confiiTU or not.

The valleys have a pretty form, and although they arc not
flat, still one does not obsen'e any trace of rain gullies :
merely a few brooks, scarcely noticeable, ripple along them
for all of them flow direct to the sea. But little of the red clo-
ver is to be seen ; the dwarf palm also disappears here, as well
as all the other flowers and shi-ubs of the south-western side
of the island. The thistles are permitted to take possession
of nothing but the way-sides, every other spot is sacred to
Ceres. Moreover, this region has a gi-eat similarity to the
hilly and fertile parts of Gennany — tor instance, the tract
between Erfm-t and Gotha, especially when you look out for
points of resemblance. Very many things must combine
together in order to make Sicily one of the most fertile regions
of the world.

On our whole tour, we have seen but few horses ; plough-
ing is carried on with oxen ; and a law exi.sts which forbids
the killing of cows and calves. Goats, asses, and mules, we
met in abundance. The horses are mostly dapple gi'cy, with
black feet and manes ; the stables are very splendid, with
well-paved and vaulted stalls. For beans and flax the laud
is dressed with dung ; the other crops are then grown after
this early one has been gathered in. Green barlev in the
ear, done up in bundles, and red clover, in like fashion, are
ofiered for sale to the traveller as he goes along.

On the hill above Caltanisetta, I found a hard limestone
with fossils : the larger shells lay lowermost, the smaller
above them. In the pavement of this little town, we noticed
a limestone with pectinites.

April 2%, 1787.
Behind Caltanisetta, the hill subsided suddenly into many
little valleys, all of which poiu- their streams into the river
Salso. The soil here is reddish and very loamy ; much of it
unworked ; what was in ciütivation bore toleralily good crops,
thou2;h inferior to what we had elsewhere seen.

Castro Giovanni, Sunday. April 29. 1787.
To-day we had to observe still greater fertility and want of
population. Heavy rains had fallen, which made travelling

510 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

anything but ])loasant. as wo had to pass through many
streams, which were swollen and rapid. At the Salso, where
one looks round in vain for a bridge. I was struck with a very
singular aiTangement for passing the ford. Strong powerful
men were waiting at the river-side ; of these two placed
themselves on each side of a mule, and conducted him, rider,
baggage and all. through the deep part of the river, till
thev reach a great bank of gravel in the middle ; when the
whole of the travellers have arrived at this spot, they are again
conducted in the same manner through the second arm of the
stream, while the fellows, by pushing and sho\'ing, keep the
animal in the right tract, and support him against the cm-rent.

On the water-side I observed bushes, which, however, do
not spread far into the land. The Salso washes down rubbles
of granite — a transition of the gneiss, and marble, both
breccian and also of a single colour.

We now saw before us the isolated momitain ridge on
which Castro Giovanni is situate, and which imparts to the
countrv about it a grave and singular character. As we rode
up the long road which traverses its side, we found that the
rock consisted of muschelkalk ; large calcined shells being
huddled together in heaps. You do not see Castro Giovanni
until you reach the very summit of the ridge, for it lies on the
northern declivitv of the mountain. The singular little town,
■with its tower, and the village of Caltaseibetta, at a little
digstance on the left, stand, as it were, solemnly gazing at each
other. In the plains we saw the bean in full blossom ; but
who is there that could take pleasure in such a sight ? The
roads here were horrible, and the more so because they once
were paved, and it rained incessantly. The ancient Enna
received us most inhospitably. — a room with a paved floor,
with shutters and no ^vindow, so that we must either sit in
dai'kness or be again exposed to the beating rain, from which
Ave had thought to escape by putting up here. Some relics
of our travelling provisions were greedily devom-ed : and the
night passed most miserably. We made a solemn vow never
to direct our course again towards never so mvthologieal a

Monday. April 30. 1787.
The road leading from Castro Giovanni was so rough and
bad. that we were obliged to lead our horses down it. The
skv before us was covered with thick and low clouds, wliile

SICIXY CASTRO GIOVANÄT- 511

high above them a sin2;iilar phenomenon was observable. It
was striped white and ^rey, and seemed to be somethin«;
corporeal ; but how could aught corporeal get into the sky ?
Our guide enlightened us. This subject of om* amazement
was a side of Mount ^tna, which ap])eared through the
opening clouds. Snow alternating with the crags formed the
stripes — it was not. however, the highest peak that we saw.

The precipitous rock on which the ancient Enna was
situated lay behind us ; and we drove through long, long,
lonely valleys : there they lay, uncultivated and uninhabited,
abandoned to the browsing cattle, which we observed were of a
beautiful brown colour, not large, short-horned, clean-limbed,
lank and lively as deer. These poor cattle had pasturage enough,
but it was greatly encroached upon, and in some parts wholly
taken possession of by the thistles. These plants have here
the finest opportunities possible to disperse their seed and to
propagate their kind ; they take up an incredible space,
which would make pasture land enough for two large estates.
As they are not perennial, they might, if mowed down before
flowering, be easily eradicated.

However, after having thus seriously meditated an agricul-
tural campaign agamst the thistles, I must, to my shame, ad-
mit they are not altogether useless. At a lonely farm-house
where we pulled up to bait, there were also stopping two
Sicilian noblemen, who on account of some process were
riding straight across the country to Palermo. With amaze-
ment we saw both these grave personages standing before a
patch of these thistles, and with their pocket-knives cutting off
the tops of the tall shoots. Then holding their prickly booty by
the tips of their fingers, they pealed off the rind, and devoured
the inner part with great satisfaction. In this way they oc-
cupied themselves a considerable time, while we were refresh-
ing ourselves with wine (this time it was unmixed) and bread.
The vetturino prepared for us some of this maiTow of thistle
stalks, and assured us that it was a wholesome, cooling food ;
it suited our taste, however, as little as the raw cabbage at

Segeste.

On the Road, April 30, 1"87.

Having reached the valley through which the rivvdet of S,
Pacio winds its way, we found the district consisting of a
reddish, black, and crumbly limestone : many brooks, a very
white soil, a beautiful valley, which the ri^aüet made ex-

512 LETTEKS FROM ITALY.

tremely agreeable. The well compounded loamy soil is in
some places twenty feet deep, and ibv the most })art of similar
quality throughout. The crops looked beautiful ; but some
of them were not very clean, and all of them very backward
as compared with those on the southern side. Here there are
the same little dwellings — and not a tree, as was the case
immediately after leaving Castro Giovanni. On the banks of
the river plenty of pasture land, but sadly confined by vast
masses of thistles. In the gravel of the river we again found
quartz, both simple and breccian.

Molimenti. quite a new village, wisely built in the centre
of beautiful fields, and on the banks of the rivulet S. Paolo.
The wheat in its neighbourhood was unrivalled : it will be
ready to cut as early as by the 20th May. In the whole
district I could not discover as yet a trace of volcanic in-
fluence : even the stream brings down no pebbles of that
character. The soil is well mixed, heavy rather than light,
and has on the whole a cofFee-brovra and slightly violet hue.
All the hills on the left, which inclose the stream, are lime-
stone, whose varieties I had no opportunity of observing.
They, however, as they crumble under the influence of the
weather, are evidently the causes of the great fertility that
marks the district throuj^hout.

Tuesday, May 1, 1787.

Through a valley which, although by nature it was
throughout alike destined to fertility, was unequally culti-
vated, we rode along very moodily because among so many
prominent and irregular shapes not one appeared to suit our
artistic designs. Kniep had sketched a highly interesting
outline, but becase the foreground and intermediate space
was thoroughly revolting, he had with a pleasant joke appended
to it a foreground of Poussins, which cost him nothing.
However, they made together a very pretty picture. How
many " picturesque tours " in all probability contain half truths
of the like kind.

Our courier, with the -vaew of soothing our grumbling
humour, promised us a good inn for the evening. And
in fact, he brought us to an hotel which had been built but a
few years since on the road side, and being at a considerable
distance from Catania, cannot but bo right welcome to all
travellers. For our part, finding ourselves, after twelve days

SICILY MOLIMENTI. 513

of discomfort, in a tolerable apartment, we were right
glad to be so much at our ease again. But we were sm*-
prised at an inscription pencilled on the Mall in an Enghsh
character. The following was its purport : — Traveller, AA'ho-
ever you may be, be on yom* guard against the inn known in
Catania by the sign of the Golden Lion ; it is better to fall
into the claws of aU the Cyclops, Sirens, and Scylla together
than to go there." Although we at once supposed that the
good-meaning counsellor had uo doubt by his mythological
figures magnified the danger, we nevertheless determined to
keep out of the reach of the " Golden Lion,"' which was thus
proclaimed to us to be so savage a beast. "When, therefore,
oui' muleteer demanded of us where we would ^ish to put
up in Catania, we answered anywhere but at the Golden
Lion ! Whereupon he ventm-ed to recommend us to stop
where he put up his beasts, only he said we should have to
provide for ourselves just as we had hitherto done.

Towards Hybla Major pebbles of lava present themselves,
which the sti-eam brings down from the north. Over the feiTy
you find hmestone, which contains all sorts of rubble, hornstone,
lava, fmd calx ; and then hardened volcanic ashes, covered over
with calcareous tufa. The hills of mixed gravel continue till
you come near to Catania, at and beyond which place you find
the lava flux, from ^-Etna. You leave on the left what looks
like a crater. (Just vmder MoUmenti the peasants were
pulliug up the flax.) Natm'c loves a motly garb ; and here
you may see how she contrives gaily to deck out the dai-k
bluish-gray lava of the mountains. A few seasons bring
over it a moss of a high yellow coloiu% upon which a beautiful
red sedum grows luxvu'iantly. and some other lovely ^'iolet
flowers. The plantations of Cactus and the vine-rows be-
speak a careful cidtivation. Now immense streams of lava
begin to hem us in. Motta is a beautiftd and striking rock.
The beans ai-e like very high shi-ubs. The fields vary veiy
much in their geological features ; now very gravelly, now
better mixed.

The vettm-ino, who probably had not for a long time seen,
the vegetation of the south-eastern side of the island, burst
into loud exclamations about the beauty of the crops, and with
self complaisant pahiotism demanded of us, if we ever taw such

Vol. IL 2 l

514 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

in our own countiy ? Here, however, every thing is sacrificed
to them ; you see few if any trees. But the sight that most
pleased us was a young girl, of a splendid but slight form.
Avho, evidently an old acquaintance, kept up with the mule of
cm- vettm-ino. chatting the while, and spinning away with all
the elegance possible.

Now yellow tints begin to predominate in the flowers.
Towards Misterbianco the cactuses are again found in the
hedges ; but hedges entirely of this strangely groM-n plant
become, as you approach Catania, more and more general,
and are even still more beautiful.

Catania, May 2. 1787.

In our auberge we found ourselves, we must confess, most
iincomfbrtable. The meal, such as our mideteer could alone
fiu-nish, was none of the best. A fowl stewed in rice woidd
have been tolerable, but for an immoderate spice of saffron,
which made it not more yellow than disagreeable. The most
abominable of bad beds had almost driven me a second time to
bring out Hackert's leathern bag, and we therefore next
morning spoke on this subject to our obliging host. He ex-
pressed his regret that it was not in his power to pro-\-ide
better for us ; " but," he said, "there is, above there, a house
where strangers are well entertained, and have every reason
to be satisfied."

Saying this, he pointed to a large corner house, of which
the part that was tiu-ned towards us seemed to promise well.
"We immediately hurried over to it, and found a very testy
personage, who declared himself to be a waiter, and who in the
absence of the landlord showed us an excellent bedroom with a
sitting-room adjoining, and assured us at the same time that we
should be well attended to. "Without delay we demanded, ac-
cording to our practice, what was the charge for dinner, for \Wne,
for luncheon, and other particulars. The answers were all fair :
and we hastily had our trifles brought over to the house, and
arranged them in the spacious and gilded buffets. For the
first time since we left Palermo, Kniep found an opportimity
to spread out his portfolio, and to arrange his drawings, as I
did my notes. Then delighted with our fine room, we stept out
on the balcony of the sitting-room to enjoy the view. "\Mien
we got tired of looking at and extolling the prospect, we tvuned
to enter our apartment, and commence our occupations, when,

SICILY CATANIA. 515

lo I over our head was a large golden lion, regarding us vrith a
most threatening aspect. Quite serious we looked for a moment
in one another's face, then smiled, and laughed outright. From
this moment, however, we began to look around us to see
whether we could discover any of these Homeric goblins.

Nothing of the kind was to be seen. On the contrary, we
found in the sitting-room a pretty young woman, who was
playing about with a child from two to three years old, who
stood suddenly stiU on being hastily scolded by the •vice-
landlord: — ''You must take yourself off!"' he testily ex-
claimed; "you have no business here."' '• It is very hard,"
she rejoined, "that you drive me away ; the child is scai'cely
to be pacified in the house when you are away, and the
signori will allow me. at least while you are present, to keep the
child quiet." The husband made no reply, but proceeded to
drive her away ; the child at the door cried most miserably,
and at last we did most heartily wish that the pretty young
madam had stayed.

Warned by the Englishman, it was no art to see through
the comedy: we played the Neidmge.Üie Unschuldige — he,
however, with his very loving paternal feelings, prevailed
veni' well. The child in fact was evidently veiy fond of him
— and probably the seeming mother had pinched him at the
door to make him ciy so.

And so, too. with the gi-eatest innocence possible she came
and stayed with him as the man went out to deliver for us
a letter of introduction to the Domestic Chaplain of Prince Bis-
cari. She played and toyed with the child till he came back
bringing word from the Abbe that he woidd come himself and
talk with us on the matter.

Catania, Thio'sda)/, -l/ffy 3, 1787.
The Abbe, who yesterday evening came and paid his re-
spects to VLS, appeared this morning in good time, and con-
ducted us to the palace, which is of one story, and built on
a tolerably high socle. First of all we visited the museum,
where there is a large collection of marble and bronze figures,
vases', and all sorts of such like antiques. Here we had once
more an opportunity of enlarging our knowledge : and the trunk
of a Jupiter, which I was already acquainted with through
a cast in Tischbein's studio, particularlv ravished me. It
21. 2

516 LETTERS IßOM ITALY.

possesses merits fiu- liighor than I am able to estimate. An
inmate of tlie house gave us all necessary historical information.
After this we passed into a spacious and lofty saloon. The
many chairs around and against the walls indicated that a
numerous company was often assembled here. Wo seated
ourselves in hope of a favourable reception. Soon afterwards
two ladies entered and walked several times up and do\^'n the
room. From time to time they spoke to each other. When
they observed us, the Abbe rose, and I did the same, and we
both bowed. I asked. Who are they ? and I learned that the
younger lady was daughter of the Prince, but the elder a
noble lady of Catania. We resumed our seats, while they
continued to walk up and down as people do in a market-place.

We were now conducted to the Prince, who (as I had been
already given to understand) honoured me with a singular mark
of his confidence in showing me his collection of coins, since, by
such acts of kindness, both his father and himself had lost
many a rare specimen : and so his general good natm'e, and
wish to oblige, had been naturally much contracted. On this
occasion I probably ap])eared a little better informed than
formerly, for I had learned something from the examination of
Prince Torremuzza's collection. I again contrived to eulai'ge
my knowledge, being greatly helped by Winckelmann"s never-
failing clues, which safely led the Avay through all the diflFerent
epochs of art. The Prince, who was Avell informed in aU
these matters, when he saw that he had before him not a con-
noisseur, but an attentive amatem-, Avillingly informed me of
everv particular that I found it necessary to ask about.

After ha-\-ing given to these matters, considerable, but still far
less time than they deserved, we were on the point of taking our
leave, when the Prince conducted us to the Princess, his mother,
in whose apartments the smaller works of art are to be seen.

We found a venerable, natiu-ally noble lady, who received
us with the words, " Pray look round my room, gentlemen ;
here you still see all that my dear departed husband collected
and arranged for me. This I owe to the affection of my son,
who not only allows me still to reside in his best room, but
has even forbidden the least thing to be taken awa*y or
removed that Iris late father purchased for me, and chose a
place for. Thus I enjoy a double pleasure : not only have
I been able these manj' years to live in my usual ways and
habits, but also I haye, as fonnerly, the opportimity to see and

1

CATAXIA. — THE PRI>'CE BISCAXi's PALACE. 517

form the acquaintance of those worthy strangers who come
hither from Tvidely distant places to examine oui* treasiu'es/'

She thereupon, -with her o^m hands, opened for us the glass-
case in which the works in amber were preseiwed. The Sici-
lian amber is distinguislied fi-om the northern, by its passing
from the transparent and non-transparent, — from the wax and
the honey-coloured. — thi-ough all possible shades of a deep
yellow, to the most beautiful hyacinthian red. In the case
there were urns, cups, and other things, and for executing
which large pieces of a marvellous size must have been neces-
sary; for such objects, and also for ciit-shells. such as are execu-
ted at Trapani, and also for exquisitely manufactured articles
in ivory, the Princess had an especial taste, and about some
of them she had amusing stories to tell. The Prince called
our attention to those of more solid value among them : and
so several hours slipped away — not, however, Mithout either
amusement or edification.

In the course of our conversation, the Princess discovered
that we were Germans : she therefore asked us after Pdedesel,
Bartels, and Munter, all of whom she knew, and whose several
characters she seemed well able to appreciate, and to discrimi-
nate. We parted reluctantly from her, and she seemed also im-
wiUing to bid us farewell. An insular life has in it something
ver\- peculiai- to be thus excited and refreshed by none but
passing s^^npathies.

From the palace the Abbe led us to the Benedictine Monas-
teiy, and took us to the cell of a brother of the order, whose
reserved and melancholy expression (though he was not of
more than the middle age) promised but little of cheerfid con-
versation. He was. however, the skilful musician who alone
could manage the enormous organ in the church of this
monastery. As he rather guessed than waited to hear our
request, so he complied with it in silence. We proceeded to
the very spacious church, where, sitting down at the glo-
rious instrument, he made its softest notes whisper through
its remotest comers, or filled the whole of it with the crash of
its loudest tones.

If you had not preA^Iously seen the organist, you would
fancy that none but a giant coxild exercise such power ; as,
however, we were already acquainted with his personal ap-
pearance, we only wondered that the necessary exertion had not
long since worn him out.

518 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

Catania, Friday, May 4, 1787.

Soon after dinner our Abbe arrived with a carriage, and
proposed to show us a distant part of the city. Upon entering
it we had a strange dispute about precedence. Having got up
first, I had seated myself on the left-hand side. As he ascended,
he begged of me to move, and to take the right-hand seat.
I begged him not to stand on such ceremony. " Pardon me,'
he repHed, " and let us sit as I propose ; for if I take my
place on your right, every one will believe that I am taking a
ride with you ; but if I sit on your left, it is thereby indicated
that you are riding with me, that is, with him who has, in the
Prince's name, to show you the city." Against this nothing
could, of com-se, be objected, and it was settled accordingly.

We drove up the streets where the lava, which, in 1699,
destroyed a great part of this city, remains Aasible to this
day. The solid lava had been worked like any other rock,
—streets had even been marked out on its surface, and partly
built. I placed under the scat of the carriage an undoubted
specimen of the molten rock, remembering that, just before
my departure from Germany, the dispute had arisen about the
volcanic origin of basalt. And I did so in many other places,
in order to have several varieties.

However, if natives had not proved themselves the friends of
their own land, had they not even laboured, either for the sake
ofprofit or of science, to bringtogether whatever is remarkable
in this neighbourhood, the traveller would have had to trouble
himself long, and to little purpose. In Naples I had received
much information from the dealer in lava, but still more
instruction did I get here from the Chevalier Gioeni. In his
rich and excellently arranged museum I learned more or less
correctlj^ to recognise the various phenomena of the lava of
-lältna ; the basalt at its foot, stones in a changed state — every-
thing, in fact, was pointed out to me in the most friendly manner
possible. What I saw most to be wondered at, was some zeolites
li'om the rugged rocks which rise out of the sea below Jaci.

As we inquired of the Chevalier which was the best course
to take in order to ascend ^Etna, he -svould not hear of so
dangerous an attempt as trying to reach the summit, espe-
cially in the present season of the year. "Generally," he
observed, begging my pardon, however, " the strangers who
come here think far too lightly of the matter ; we, however,

SICILY — CA.TANIA. 519

who are neighbours of the mountain, are quite contented if,
twice in our life, we hit on a very good opportunity to reach
the summit. Brydone, who was the first by his description to
kindle a desire to see this fieri- peak, did not himself ascend
it. Count Borch leaves his readers in uncertainty ; but, in
fact, even he ascended only to a certain height : and the same
may be said of many others. At present the snow comes do-ft-n
far too low, and presents insuperable obstacles. If you would
take my advice, j'ou will ride very early some morning for
Monte Rosso, and be contented with ascending this height.
From it you will enjoy a splendid view of ^tna, and at the
same time have an opportunity of observing the old lava,
which, bursting out from that point in 1697, unhappily poui'ed
down upon the city. The view is glorious and distinct ; it
is best to listen to a description for all the rest."

Catania, Saturday, May 5, 1787.
Following this good counsel, we set out early on a mule;
and, continually looking behind us on om- way, reached at
last the region of the lava, as yet unchanged by time.
Jagged lumps and slabs stared us in the face, among which a
chance road had been tracked out by the beasts. We halted on
the first considerable eminence. Kniep sketched with wonderful
precision, what lay before us. The masses of lava in the fore-
ground, the double peak of Monte Rosso on the left, right before
us the woods of Nicolosi, out of which rose the snow-capped and
slightly smoking summit. We di'ewnear to the Red Mountain.
I ascended it. It is composed entirely of red volcanic rubbish,
ashes, and stones, heaped together. It would have been very
easy to go round the mouth of the crater, had not a violent and
stormy east wind made my footing unsteady. When I wished
to go a little way, I was obliged to take off my cloak, and
then my hat was eveiy moment in danger of being blown
into the crater, and I after it. On this account 1 sat down
in order to recover myself, and to take a view of the sur-
rounding objects ; but even this position did not help me at
all. The wind came direct from the east, over the glorious
land which, for and near, and reaching to the sea, lay below me.
The outstretched strand, from Messina to SjTacuse. with its
bays and headlands, was before mv eyes, either quite open,
or else (though only in a few small points) covered with rocks.
When I came do^Ti quite numbed, Kniep, under the shelter of

520 LETTERS PROM ITALY.

the hill, had passed his time well, and with a few light lines
on the paper had perpetuated the memory of what the wild
storm had allowed me scarcely to see, and still less to fix per-
manently in my mind.

Returned once more to the jaws of the Golden Lion, we found
the waiter, whom we had with difficidty prevented from
accompanying us. Ho praised our prudence in giving up the
thought of visiting the summit, but urgently recommended
for the next day a walk by the sea to the rocks of Jaci — it
was the most delightful pleasure-trip that could be made
fi'om Catania : but it would be well to take something to eat
and di-ink with us, and also utensils for warming our viands.
His wife offered herself to perfomi this duty. Moreover, he
spoke of the jubilee thei'e was when some Englishmen hired a
boat with a band of music to accompany them — which made
it more delightful than it was possible to form any idea of.

The rocks of Jaci had a strong attraction for me ; I had a
sti'ong desire to knock ofi^ from them as fine zeolites as I had
seen in Gioenis possession. It was true we might reduce
the scale of the aifair, and decline the attendance of the wife ;
but the warning of the Englishman prevailed over every other
consideration. We gave up all thoughts of zeolites, and
prided oiu'selves not a little at this act of self-denial.

Catania, Sunday, ^^^«11 6, 1787.

Our clerical companion has not failed us to-day. He
conducted us to some remains of ancient architecture ; in
examining which, however, the ^-isitor needs to bring with
him no ordinary talent of restoration. We saw the remains
of the great cisterns of a naumachy, and other similar
ruins, which, however, have been filled up and depressed
by the many successive destructions of the city by lava, earth-
quakes, and wars. It is only those who are most accurately
acquainted with the architecture of the ancients that can now
derive either pleasure or instruction from seeing them.

The kind Abbe engaged to make our excuses for not wait-
ing again on the Prince, and we parted with lively expres-
sions of mutual gratitude and good will.

Taormina, Monday, May 7, 1787.
God be thanked that all that we have here seen this day
has been ah-cady amply described — but still more, that Kniep

SICILY — TAORMIXA. 521

has resolved to spend the whole of to-morrow in the open
air, taking sketches. "When you have ascended to the top
of the wall of rocks, which rise precipitously at no great dis-
tance from the sea, you find two peaks, connected by a semi-
circle. Whatever shape this may have had originally from Na-
ture has been helped by the hand of man, which has formed out
of it an amphitheatre for spectators. Walls and other buudings
have furnished the necessary passages and rooms. Right across,
at the foot of the semicircular range of seats, the scene was built,
and by this means the two rocks were joined together, and
a most enormous work of natm-e and art combined.

Now, sitting down at the spot where formerly sat the up-
permost spectators, you confess at once that never did any audi-
ence, in any theatre, have before .t such a spectacle as you there
behold. On the right, and on high rocks at the side, castles
tower in the air — farther on the city lies below you; and
although its buildings are all of modem date, still similar ones,
no doubt, stood of old on the same site. After this the
eye falls on the whole of the long ridge of ^Etna, then on the
left it catches a \-iew of the sea-shore, as far as Catania, and
even Syracuse, and then the wide and extensive view is closed
by the immense smoking volcano, but not horribly, for the at-
mosphere, with its softening effect, makes it look more distant,
and milder than it really is.

If now vou tiu'n from this view towards the passage running
at the back of the spectators, you have on the left the whole
wall of the rocks between which and the sea runs the road to
Messina. And then again you behold vast groups of rocky
ridges in the sea itself, with the coast of Calabria in the far
distance, which only a fixed and attentive gaze can distinguish
from the clouds which rise rapidly from it.

We descended towards the theatre, and tamed awhile
among its ruins, on which an accomplished architect would
do well to employ, at least on paper, his talent of restoration.
After this I attempted to make a way for myself thi'ough the gar-
dens to the city. But I soon learnt by experience what an im-
penetrable bulwark is fonued by a hedge of agaves planted close
together. You can see through their interlacing leaves, and you
think, therefore, it will be ea-y to force a way through them ;
but the prickles on their leaves are very sensible obstacles.
If you step on these colossal leaves, in the hope that they will
bear you, they break off suddenly ; and so, instead of getting

522 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

out, you fall into the arms of the next plant. "When, how-
ever, at last we had wound our way out of the labyrinth, we
found but little to enjoy in the city ; thouijh from the neigh-
bouring; country we felt it impossible to part before sunset.
Infinitely beautiful was it to observe this region, of which
every point had its interest, gradually enveloped in darkness.

Beloio Taormina : on the Sca-sJiore,

Tuesday, May 8, 1787.

Kniep, whom, by good luck, I brought with me hither, can-
not be praised enough for relieving me of a bm-den which
would have been intolerable to me, and which goes directly
counter to my nature. He has gone to sketch in detail
the objects which yesterday he took a general survey of. He
will have to point his pencil many a time, and I know not
when he will have finished, I shall have it in my power to
see all these sights again. At first I wished to ascend the
height with him ; but then, again, I was tempted to remain
here ; I sought a corner like the bird about to build its nest.
In a sorry and neglected peasant's garden I have seated myself,
on the trunk of an orange-tree, and lost myself in reveries.
Orange-bi'anches, on which a traveller can sit, sounds rather
strangely ; but seems quite natiu-al when one knows that the
orauge-tree, left to nature, sends out at a little distance from
the root, twigs, which, in time, become decided branches.

And so, thinking over again the plan of the " Nausicixa,' I
formed the idea of a dramatic concentration of the " Odyssey."
I think the scheme is not impracticable, only it will be indis-
pensable to keep clearly in view the difference of the Drama
and the Epopee.

Kniep has come down, quite happy and delighted, and has
brought back with him two large sheets of (h-a\ving-paper,
covered with the clearest outlines. Both wiU contribute to pre-
serve in my mind a jjerpetual memory of these glorious days.

It must not be left uin-ecorded, that on this shore, and
beneath the clearest sky, we looked around us, from a little
balcony, and saw roses, and heard the nightingales. These
we are told sing here during at least six months of the

twelve.

From Memory.

The activity of the clever artist who accompanies me, and
my own more desultory and feeble efforts, having now assured

SICILY SKETCH OF NAUSICAA, A TRAGEDY, 523

me the possession of >Yell- selected sketches of the country
and its most remarkable points (which, either in outline, or
if I like, in well-finished paintings, will be mine for ever),
I have been able to resign myself more entirely to an impulse
which has been daily growing- in strength. I have felt an irre-
sistible impiüse to animate the glorious scenes by which I am
surrounded — the sea, the island, the heavens, with appropriate
poetical beings, and here, in and out of this locality, to finish
a composition in a tone and spirit such as I have not yet pro-
duced. The clear sky ; the smell of the sea. the halo which
merges, as it were, into one the sky, the headlands, and the
sea — all these afibrded nourishment to my purpose ; and
whilst I wandered in those beautiful gardens, between blossom-
ing hedges of oleander, and through arbours of fi-uit-bearing
orange, and citron-trees, and between other trees and .shrubs,
which were unkno-w-n to me. I felt the strange influence in the
most agreeable way possible.

Convinced that for me there could be no better commen-
tary on the " Odyssey"' than even this very neighbourhood, I
purchased a copy, and read it, after my own fashion, with
incredible interest. But I was also excited by it to produce
something of my own, which, strange as it seemed at the first
look, became dearer and dearer, and at last took entire posses-
sion of me. For I entertained the idea of treating the story
of Nausicaa as the subject of a tragedy.

It is impossible for me even to say what I should have been
able to make of it, but the plan I had quite settled in my
mind. The leading idea Avas to paint in Nausicaa, an
amiable and excellent maiden who, wooed by many suitors,
but conscious of no preference, coldly rejected all advances,
who, however, falling in love with a remarkable stranger,
suddenly alters her own conduct, and by an overhasty avowal
of her affection compromises herself : and consequently gives
rise to a truly tragic situation. This simple fable might, I
thought, be rendered highly interesting by an abundance of
subordinate motives, and especially by the naval and insular
character of the locality, and of the personages where and
among whom the scene was laid, and by the peculiar tone it
would thence assume.

The first act began with the game at ball. The unexpected
acquaintance is made ; the scruple to lead him herself into the
city is already the harbinger of her love.

524 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

The second act unfolds the characters of the household of
Alciuous, and of the suitors, and ends with the arrival of Ulysses.

The third is devoted entirely to exhibiting the greatness and
merits of the new comer, and I hoped to be able in the course of
the dialogue, (which was to bring out the history of his adven-
tures), to produce a truly artistic and agreeable effect by repre-
senting the various ways in which this story was received by his
several hearers. During the narrative, the passions were to be
heightened, and Nausicaa's lively sympathy with the stranger
to be thrown out more and more by conflicting feelings.

In the fourth act, Ulysses, (otf the scene,) gives convincing-
proofs of his valour ; while the women remain, and give full
scope to their likings, their hopes, and all other tender emo-
tions. The high favour in which the stranger stands with all,
makes it impossible for Nausicaa to restrain her own feelings, and
so she becomes irreparably compromised with her own people.
Ulysses, who, partly innocent, partly to blame, is the cause of
all this, now announces his intention to depart ; and nothing
remains for the vmhappy Nausicaa, but in the fifth act to
seek for an end of existence.

In this composition, there was nothing which I was not
able by experience to paint after nature. Even while travel-
ling— even in ]ieril — to excite favom-able feelings which,
although they did not end tragically, might yet prove painful
enough, and perhaps dangerous, and would, at all events, leave
deep wounds behind — even the supposed accidents of describ-
ing, in lively colours, for the entertainment of others, objects
observed at a great distance from home, travelling adventm'es
and chances of life — to be looked upon by the young as a
demigod, but by the more sedate as a talker of rhodomontade,
and to meet now with unexpected favour, and nov/ with
unexpected rebuffs — all this caused me to feel so great an
attachment to this plan, that in thinking of it. I di-eamed
away all the time of my stay at Palermo, and, indeed, of all
the rest of my Sicilian tour. It was this that made me care
little for all the inconvenience and discomfort I met w-ith ;
for, on this classic ground, a poetic vein had taken possession
of me, causing all that I saw, experienced, or observed, to be
taken and regarded in a joyous mood.

After my usual habit — whether a good or a bad one — I
wrote down little or nothing of the piece ; but worked in my
mind the most of it, with all the minutest detail. And there.

I

SICILY THE EOAD TO MESSIXA. 525

in my mind, pushed out of thouaht by many subsequent dis-
tractions, it has remained until this moment, -when, however,
I can recollect nothing: but a very faint idea of it.

J/«y 8, 1787. On the road to Messina.
High limestone rocks on the left. They become more
deeply coloiu-ed as you advance, and form many beautiful
caves. Presently there commences a sort of rock which may
be called clay slate, or sand-stone (greywacke). In the
brooks you now meet pebbles of granite. The yellow apples
of the Solanum, the red flowers of the oleander, give beauty to
the landscape. The little stream of Nisi brings down with it
mica-pebbles, as do also all the sti-eams we afterwards came to.

Wednesday, May 9, 1787.

Beaten by a stormy east wind, we rode between the raging
sea on the right, and the wall of rocks, from the top of
which we were yesterday looking doMTi; but this day we have
been continually at war v.ith the water. We had to cross
innumerable brooks, of which the largest bears the honour-
able title of a river. However, these streams, as well as the
gi'avel which they bring down with them, were easier to buffet
wäth than the sea, which was raging violently, and at many
places dashed right over the road against the rocks, which
threw back the thick spray on the travellers. It was a
glorious sight, and its rarity to us made us quite ready to put
up with all its inconvenience.

At the same time there was no lack of objects for the
mineralogical observer. Enormous masses of limestone, un-
dermined by the wind and the waves, fall from time to time ;
the softer particles ai-e worn away by the continual motion of
the waves, while the harder substances imbedded in them are
left behind ; and so the whole strand is strewed with variegated
flints verging on the hornstone, of which I selected and
carried off many a specimen.

Messina, Timrsday, May 10, 1787.
And so at last we arrived in Messina, where, as we knew of
no lodging, we made up om- minds to pass the fu'st night at
the quarters of o\u- vetturiuo. and then look, out in the morn-
ing for a more comfortable habitation. In consequence of
this resolution, our fii'st entrance gave us the terrible idea of

526 LETTERS FKOM ITALY.

entering a ruined city. For. durino; a whole quarter of au hour
as we rode alonj^. we passed ruin after ruin, before we reached
the auberge. which, being the only new building that has
sprung up in this quarter, opens to you from its first story
M'indow a view of nothing but a rugged waste of ruins. Be-
yond the circle of the stable yard not a living being of any
kind was to be seen. During the night the stillness was
frightful. The doors would neither bolt nor even close : there
was no more pro'S'ision here for the entertainment of human
guests than at any other of the similar posting stations.
However, we slept away very comfortably on a mattrass
which our vetturino took away from beneath the very body

of our host.

Friday, May II, 1787.
To-day we parted from ovu- worthy muleteer, and a good
largesse rewarded him for his attentive services. We parted
verv amicably, after he had first procured us a servant, to take
us at once to the best inn in the place, and afterwards to
show us whatever was at all remarkable in Messina. Our
first host, in order that his wish to get rid of us might be
gratified as quickly as possible, helped to carry oui- boxes and
other packages to a pleasant lodging nearer to the inhabited
portion of the city — that is to say, beyond the city itself.
The following description will give some idea of it. The
terrible calamity which visited Messina and swept away
twelve thousand of its inhabitants, did not leave behind it
a single dwelling for the thirty thoiisand who &urvived.
Most of the houses were entirely thrown down ; the cracked
and shaking walls of the others made them quite imsafe to live
in. On the extensive meads, therefore, to the north of Mes-
sina, a city of planks was hastily erected, of which any one
will quickly form an idea who has ever seen the Römerberg
at Frankfort during the fair, or has passed through the mar-
ket-place at Leipzig : for all the retail houses and the woi'k-
shops are open towards the street, and the chief business is
carried on in front of them. Therefore, there are but few of
the larger houses even that are particularly well closed against
publicity. Thus, then, have they been living for tlu'ce years, and
the habits engendered by such booth- like, hut-like, and, indeed,
tent-like dwellings, has had a decided influence on the charac-
ter of the occupants. The horror caused by this unj^aralleled
e\'ent, the di'ead of its recurrence, impels them with light-

SICILY MESSINA. 527

hearted cheerfulness to enjoy to the utmost the passing moment.
A dreadful expectation of a fresh calamity was excited on 21st
April — only twenty days ago, that is — by an earthquake,
which again sensibly shook the ground. We were shown a
small church where a multitude of people were crowded to-
gether at the yery momeut, and pei'ceived the trembling.
Some persons who were present at the time do not appear even
yet to have recovered from their fright.

In seeking out and visiting these spots we were accom-
panied by a friendly consul, who spontaneously put himself
to much trouble on our account — a kindness to be gratefiilly
acknowledged in this wilderness more than in any other place.
At the same time, having learned that we were soon about to
leave, he informed us that a French merchantman was on
the point of sailing for Naples. The news was doubly wel-
come, as the flag of France is a protection against the pirates.

We made our kind cicerone aware of our desire to examine
the inside of one of the larger (though still one storied) huts,
and to see their plain and extemporized economy. Just at this
moment we were joined by an agTceable person, who presently
described himself to be a teacher of French. After finishing
our walk, the consul made known to him our wish to look at
one of these buildings, and requested him to take us home
with him and show us his.

We entered the hut, of which the sides and roof consisted
alike of planks. The impression it left on the eye was exactly
that of one of the booths in a fair, where wild beasts or other
curiosities are exhibited. The timber work of the walls and
the roof was quite open. A green curtain divided oiF the
front room, which was not covered with deals, but the natural
floor was left just as in a tent. There were some chairs and
a table ; but no other article of domestic furniture. The
space was lighted from above by the openings which had been
accidentally left in the roofing. We stood talking together
for some time, while I contemplated the green curtain and the
roof within, which was visible over it, when all of a sudden
from the other side of the curtain two lovely girls" heads,
black-eyed, and black-haired, peeped over full of curiosity,
but vanished again as soon as they saw they were perceived.
However, upon being asked for by the consul, after the lapse of
just so much time as was necessary to adorn tliemselves, they
came forward, and with their well dressed and neat little bodies

528 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

crept before the p;reeu tapestry. From their questions we
clearly perceived that they looked upou us as fabulous beiugs
from another world, in which most amiable delusion our
answers must have gone far to confirm them. The consul
gave a meriy description of our singular appearance : the con-
versation was so very agreeable, that we found it hard to part
with them. It was not until we had got out of the door that
it occurred to us that we had never seen the inner room, and
had forgotten all about the construction of the house, being
entii-ely taken up with its fair inhabitants.

Messina, Saturday, May 12, 1787.

Among other things we were told by the consul, that
although it was not indispensably necessary, still it would be
as well to pay our respects to the governor, a strange old
man, who, by his humours and prejudices, might as readily
injm-e as benefit us : that besides it always told in his (the
consul's) favour if he was the means of introducing distin-
guished personages to the governor ; and besides, no stranger
arriving here can tell whether some time or other he may
not somehow or other require the assistance of this personage.
So to please my friend, I went with him.

As we entered the ante-chamber, we heard in the inner room
a most horrible hubbub ; a Ibotman, with a very pimch-like
expression of countenance, whispered in the consuls ear : —
" An in day — a dangerous moment !'' However Ave entei'ed,
and found the governor, a very old man. sitting at a table neai-
the window, with his back turned towards us. Large piles
of old thscoloured letters were lying before him, from which,
with the greatest sedateuess, he went on cutting out the un-
written portion of the paper — thus giATJig pretty strong proofs
of his love of economy. During this peaceful occupation,
however, he was fearfully rating and cursing away at a re-
spectable looking personage, who. to judge from his costume,
was probably connected v.ith ]\Ialta, and who, with great
coolness and precision of manner, was defending himself,
for which, however, he was afforded but little opportunity.
Though thus rated and scolded, he yet with great self-posses-
sion endeavoured by appealing to his passport and to his
well-known connections in Naples, to remove a suspicion which
the governor, as it would appear, had formed against him as

SICILY MESSINA. 529

coming backwards and forwards without any apparent busi-
ness. All this, however, was of no use : the governor went
on cutting his old letters, and carefully separating the clean
paper, and scolding all the while.

Besides ourselves there were about twelve other persons in
the room, spectators of the bull-baiting, standing hovering in
a very wide circle, and apparently envying us our proximity
to the door, as a desirable position should the passionate old
man seize his crutch, and strike away right and left. During
this scene our good consuls face had lengthened considerably;
for my part, my courage was kept up by the grimaces of a foot-
man, who, though just outside the door, was close to me, and
who, as often as I turned round, made the drollest gestures
possible to appease my alarm, by indicating that all this
did not matter much.

And indeed the awful aifair was quickly brought to an
end. The old man suddenly closed it Avith observing that
there was nothing to prevent him clapping the Maltese in pri-
son, and letting him cool his heels in a cell — however, he would
pass it over this time; he might stay in Messina the few days he
had spoken of — but after that he must pack off, and never show
his face there again. Very coolly, and without the slightest
change of countenance, the object of suspicion took his leave,
gracefully saluting the assembly, and om'selves in parti-
cidar, as he passed through the crowd to get to the door.
As the governor tmnied round fiercely, intending to add yet
another menace, he caught sight of us, and immediately
recovering himself, nodded to the consul, upon which he
stepped forward to introduce me.

The governor was a person of very great age ; his head bent
forwards on his chest, while from beneath his grey shaggy
brows, black simken eyes cast forth stealthy glances. Now,
however , he was quite a different personage, from what we had
seen a few moments before. He begged me to be seated ; and
still uninterruptedly pursuing his occupation, asked me many
questions, which I duly answered, and concluded by inviting
me to din e with him as long as I should remain here. The con-
sul, satisfied as well as myself, nay, even more satisfied, since
he knew better than I did the danger we had escaped, made
haste to descend the stairs ; and, for my part, I had no desire
ever again to approach the lions den.
Vol. II. 2 m

530 rETiEKs fkom; italy.

Messina, Sunday, May 13, 1787.

Waking this morning, we found ourselves in a much plea-
santer apartment, and ^ith the sun shining brightly, but still
in poor afflicted Messina. Singularly unpleasant is the view of
the so-caUed Palazzata. a crescent-shaped row of real palaces,
which for nearly a quarter of a league encloses and marks out
the roadstead. All were built of stone, and four stories high ;
of several the whole front, up to the cornice of the roof, is
stiU standing, while others have been thrown down as low as
the first, or second, or third stoiy. So that this once splendid
line of buildings exhibits at present with its many chasms and
perforations, a strangely revolting appearance : for tlie blue
heaven may be seen through almost every window. The in-
terior apartments in all are utterly destroyed and fallen.

One cause of this singular phenomenon is the fact that the
splendid architectural edifices erected by the rich, tempted
their less wealthy neighbours to vie -«-ith them, in appearance
at least, and to hide behind a new front of cut stone the
old houses, which had been built of larger and smaller rubble-
stones, kneaded together and consolidated ^vith plenty of
mortar. This joining, not much to be trusted at any time,
was quickly loosened and dissolved by the ten-ible earthquake.
The whole fell together. Among the many singvdar instances
of wonderful preservation which occurred in this calamity,
they teU the following. The owner of one of these houses
had. exactly at the awful moment, entered the recess of a
window ,while the whole house fell together behind him : and
there, susjoended aloft, but sale, he calmly awaited the moment
of his liberation from his airy prison. That this style of build-
ing, which was adopted in consequence of ha-s-ing no quarries
in the neighbourhood, was the principal cause why the ruin of
the city was so total as it was. is proved by the fact that the
houses which were of a more solid masonrj' are stiU standing.
The Jesuits' College and Church, which are solidly built of cut
stone, are still standing iminjured, with, their original substan-
tial fabric xmimpaired. But whatever may be the cause, the
appearance of Messina is most oppressive, and reminds one of
the times when the Sicaniand Siculi abandoned this restless and
treacherous district, to occupy the western coast of the island.

After passing the morning in viewing these ruins, we entered
our inn to take a frugal meal. We were still sitting at table.

i

MESSINA THE PALAZZATÄ., 531

feeling oursehes quite comfortable, -when the consul's sen-ant
TOshed breathless into the room, declaring that the governor had
been looldng for me all over the cit^^ — he had invited me to din-
ner, and yet I was absent. The consul earnestly intreated me
to go immediately, whether I had or not dined — whether I had
allowed the hour to pass through forgetfulness or design. I
now felt, for the first time, how childish and silly it was to allow
my joy at my first escape to banish all further recollection of
the Cyclop"s invitation. The servant did not allow me to
loiter ; his representations were most urgent and most direct
to the point ; if I did not go the consul would be in danger of
suffering all that this fiery despot might chose to inflict upon
him and his countrymen.

Whilst I was aiTanging my hair and dress, I took courage,
and with a lighter heart followed, invoking Ulysses as my
patron saint, and begging him to intercede in my behalf with
Pallas Athene.

Arrived at the lion's den, I was conducted by a fine foot-
man into a large dining-room, where about forty people were
sitting at an oval table, without, however, a word being
spoken. The place on the governor's right was imoccupied,
and to it was I accordingly conducted.

Having saluted the host and his g-uests with a low bow, I
took my seat by his side, excused mj delay by the vast size of
the city, and by the mistakes which the unusual way of
reckoning the time had so often caused me to make. With a
fiery look, he replied, that if a person visited foreign countries,
he ought to make a point to learn its customs, and to guide
his movements accordingly. To this I answered that such
was invariably my endeavoiu-, only I had found that, in a
strange locality, and amidst totally new circumstances, one
invariably fell at fii-st, even with the veiy best intentions, into
errors which might appear unpardonable, but for the kindness
which readily accepted in excuse for them the plea of the
fatigue of travelling, the distraction of new objects, the neces-
sity of pro^•iding for one's bodily comforts, and, indeed, of
preparing for one's further travels.

Hereupon he asked me how long I thought of remaining,

I answered that I shoiüd like, if it were possible, to stay here

for a considerable period, in order to have the opportunity of

attesting, by my close attention to his orders and commands,

2 m2

532 rETTEBS FROM ITALY.

my gratitude for the favour he had shewn me. After a pause
he inquired what I had seen in Messina? I detailed to him
my morning's occupation, with some remarks on what I had
seen, adding that what most had struck me was the ck'anUness
and good order in the streets of this devastated city. And, in
fact, it was highly admirable to observe how all the streets had
been cleared by throwing the rubbish among the fallen fortifi-
cations, and bv piling up the stones against the houses, by
which means the middle of the streets had been made per-
fectly free and open for trade and traffic. And this gave me
an opportunity to pay a well- deserved compliment to his
excellency, by observing that all the Messinese thankfully
acknowledged that they owed this convenience entirely to his
care and forethought. " They acknowledge it, do they," he
growled : " well, every one at first complained loudly enough
of the hardship of being compelled to take his share of the
necessary labour."' I made some general remarks upon the
wise intentions and lofty designs of government being only
slowly understood and appreciated and on similar topics. He
asked if I had seen the Church of the Jesuits, and when I said.
No, he rejoined that he would cause it to be shown to me in
all its splendour.

During this conversation, which was interrupted with a few
pauses, the rest of the company, I observed, maintained a deep
silence, scarcely moving except so far as was absolutely neces-
sary in order to place the food in their mouths. And so, too,
when the table was removed, and coffee was served, they stood
up round the walls like so many wax dolls. I went up to the
chaplain, who was to shew me the church, and began to thank
him in advance for the trouble. However, he moved off, after
humbly assurmg me that the command of his excellency was
in his eyes all sufficient. Upon this I turned to a young
sti'anger who stood near, who, however, Frenchman as he
was, did not seem to be at all at his ease ; for he. too, seemed
to be struck dumb and petrified, like the rest of the company,
among whom I recognized many faces who had been any-
thing but v,illing witnes.ses of yesterday's scene.

The governor moved to a distance ; and after a little while,
the chaplain observed to mo that it was time to be going. I
followed him ; the rest of the company had silently one by one
disappeared. He led me to the gate of the Jesuit's church.
which rises in the air with all the splendour and really

MESSINA TUE GOVERXOK. 533

imposing effect of the architectui-e of these fathers. A
porter came immediately towards vis, and invited us to enter ;
but the priest held me back, observing that we must wait for
tiie governor. The latter presently arrived in his carriage, and,
stopping in the piazza, not far from the church, nodded to us to
approach, whereupon all three advanced towards him. He gave
the porter to understand that it was his command that he
■should not only shew me the chiirch and all its parts, but
■should also narrate to me in full the histories of the several
altars and chapels ; and, moreover, that he should also open
to me all the sacrists, and shew me their remarkable contents.
I was a person to whom he was to show all honour, and who
must have every cause on his return home to speak well and
honourably of ISIessina. "Fail not," he then said, turning to
me with as much of a smile as his features were capable of, —
" Fail not as long as you are here to be at my dinner-table in
good time — you shall always find a hearty welcome."' I had
scarcely time to make him a most respectful reply before the
carriage moved on.

From this moment the chaplain became more cheerful, and we
entered the church. The Castellan (for so we may well name
him) of this fairy palace, so little suited to the worship of God,
set to work to fulfil the duty so sharply enjoined on him, when
Kniep and the consul rushed into the empty sanctuary, and
gave vent to passionate expressions of their joy at seeing me
again and at liberty, who, they had believed, would by this
time have been in safe custody. They had sat in agonies until
the roguish footman (whom probably the consiü had well-feed)
came and i-elated with a hundred grimaces the issue of the
affair ; upon which a cheerful joy took possession of them, and
they at once set out to seek me. as their informant had made
known to them the governor's kind intentions with regard to
the church, and thereby gave them a hope of finding me.

We now stood before the high altar, listening to the enu-
meration of the ancient rarities Avith which it was inlaid :
pillars of lapis lazuli fluted, as it were, with bronzed and with
gilded rods ; pilasters and panellings after the Florentine
fashion; gorgeous Sicilian agates in abundance, with bronze and
gilding perpetually recurring and combining the whole together.

And now commenced a wondrous counterpointed fugue,
Kniep and the consul dilating on the perplexities of the
late incident, and the showman emimerating the costly articles

534 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

of the well-preserved splendour, broke in alternately, both
fully possessed with their subject. This afforded a twofold
gratification ; I became sensible how lucky was my escape,
and at the same time had the pleasure of seeing the produc-
tions of the Sicilian mountains, on which, in their native
state, I had already bestowed attention, here worked up and
employed for architectural purposes.

j\ry accurate acquaintance with the several elements of
which this splendour was composed, helped me to discover
that what was called lapis laznli in these columns was probably
nothing but calcara, though calcara of a more beautiful colour
than I ever remember to have seen, and withal most incom-
parably pieced together. But even such as they are, these
pillars are still most highly to be prized ; for it is evident tliat
an immense quantity of this material must have been collected
before so many pieces of such beautiful and similar tints
could be selected ; and in the next place, considerable pains
and labour must have been expended in cutting, splitting.
and polishing the stone. But what task was ever too gi-eat
for the industry of these fothers ?

During my inspection of these rarities, the consul
never ceased enlightening me on the danger with which I had
been menaced. The governor, he said, not at all pleased
that, on my very first introduction to him, I should have
been a spectator of his violence towards the quasi Maltese,
had resolved within himself to pay me especial attention,
and with this view he had settled in his own mind a regular
plan, which, however, had received a considerable check from
my absence at the very moment in which it was first to be
carried into effect. After waiting a long while, the despot at
last sat down to dinner, without, however, been able to con-
ceal his vexation and annoyance, so that the company were
in dread lest they should witness a scene either on my arrival
or on oui- rising from table.

Every now and then the sacristan managed to put in a word,
opened the secret chambers, which are built in beautiful pro-
portion, and elegantly not to say splendidly ornamented. In
them were to be seen all the moveable furniture and costly
utensils of the church still remaining, and these corresponded
in shape and decoration with all the rest. Of the precious
metals I observed nothing, and just as little of genuine works
of art, whether ancient or modern.

MESSINA CHURCH OF THE JESUITS. 535

Our mixed Italian-German fugue (for tlie good father and
the sacristan chaunted in the former tongue, while Kniep and
the consul responded in the latter) came to an end just as we
were joined by an officer whom I remembered to have seen
at the dmner-table. He belono^ed to the governor's suite.
His appearance certainly calculated to excite anxiety, and
not the less so as he offered to conduct me to the harbour,
where he would take me to certain parts which generally were
inaccessible to strangers. My friends looked at one another ;
however, I did not suffer myself to be deterred by their suspi-
cions from going alone with him. After some talk about indif-
ferent matters, I began to addi-ess him more familiarly, and
confessed that during the dinner I had observed many of the
silent party nialdng friendly signs to me, and giving me to
imderstand that I was not among mere strangers and men of
the world, but among friends, and, indeed, brothers : and
that I had, therefore, nothing to fear. I felt it a duty to
thank him, and to request him to be the bearer of similar exi-
pressions of gratitude to the rest of the company. To all this
he replied, that they had sought to calm any apprehensions I
might have felt ; because, well acquainted as they were with
the character of theii- host, they were convinced that there
was really no cause for alarm ; for explosions like that vAih
the Maltese were but very rare, and when they did happeny
the worthy old man always blamed himself afterwards, and
would for a long time keep a watch over his temper, and.
go on for a while in the calm and assured performance of his
duty, until at last some unexpected rencontre would surprise
and carry him away by a fresh outbreak of passion.

My valiant friend further added, that nothing was more
desii'ed by him and his companions than to bind themselves
to me by a still closer tie, and therefore he begged that I would
have the great kindness of letting them know where it might
be done this evening, most conveniently to myself. I coxu'-
teously declined the proffered honour, and begged him to
himaour a whim of mine, which made me wish to be looked
upon during my travels merely as a man ; if as such I coidd
excite the confidence and sympathy of others, it would be most
agreeable to me, and what I most wished, — but that many rea-
sons forbade me to enter into other relations or connexions.

Convince him I covild not, — ^for I did not venture to tell
him what was really my motive. However, it struck me as

536 LETTEUS FROM ITALY.

remarkable, that under so despotic a government, these kind-
hearted persons should have formed so excellent and so inno-
cent an union for mutual protection, and for the benefit of
Strangers. I did not conceal from him the fact, that I wan
well aware of the ties subsisting between them and other Ger-
man travellers, and expatiated at length on the praiseworthy
objects they had in "view ; and so only caused him to feel still
more sm-prise at my obstinacy. He tried every possible in-
ducement to draw me out of my incognito — however, he did
not succeed, partly because, having just escaped one danger, I
was not inclined for any object whatever, to run into another ;
and partly because I was well aware that the views of these
worthy islanders were so very different from my OAvn, that any
closer intimacy with them could lead neither to pleasm'e
nor comfort.

On the other hand, I willingly spent a few hours with our
well-wishing and active consul, who now enlightened us as to
the scene Avith the Maltese. The latter was not really a mere
adventurer, — still he Mas a restless person, who was never
happy in one place. The governor, who was of a great family,
and highly honored for his sincerity and habits of business,
and was also greatly esteemed for his former important ser-
vices, was. nevertheless, notorious for his illimitable self-will,
his unbridled passion, and unbending obstinacy. Suspicious,
both as an old man and a tp-ant, — more anxious lest he should
have, than convinced that he really had, enemies at com"t, he
looked upon as spies, and hated all persons who, like this
Maltese, were continually coming and going, without any os-
tensible business. This time the red cloak had crossed him,
when, after a considerable period of quiet, it was necessary
for him to give vent to his passion, in order to relieve his mind.

Written jicirtly at Messina, and partly

at Sea, Monday, May 4, 1787.
Both Kniep and myself awoke with the same feelings ; both
felt annoyed that we had allowed om'selves, under the first
impression of disgust which the desolate appearance of Mes-
sina had excited, to form the hastj" determination of leaving
it with the French merchantman. The happy issue of
mv adventure with the governor, the acquaintance which I
had formed with certain worthy individuals, and which it only
remained for me to render more intimate, and a visit which I

MESSIXA CHAKACTER OF THE GOVERNOR. 537

bad paid to my banker, Mhose country-bouse was situated in
a most delightful spot : all this aiforded a prospect of our
being able to spend most agreeably a stiU longer time in
Messina. Kniep, quite taken up with two pretty little
children, wished for nothing more than that the adverse
wind, which in any other case would be disagreeable enough,
might still last for some time. In the meanwhile, however,
om- position was disagreeable enough, — all must be packed up,
and we ourselves be ready to start at a moment's warning.

And so, at last, about mid-day the summons came : and we
hastened on board, and fomad among the crowd collected on
the shore our worthy consul, from whom we took our leave
with many thanks. The sallow footman, also, pressed forward
to receive his douceur — he was accordingly didy rewarded,
and charged to mention to his master the fact of our depar-
tiu'e, and to excuse our absence from dinner. '• He who sails
away is at once excused," exclaimed he; and then tui-ning
round with a very singular spring, quickly disappeared.

In the ship itself things looked very different from what
they had done in the Neapolitan corvette. However, as we
gradually stood off from the shore, we were quite taken up with
the glorious view presented by the circular line of the Palaz-
zata, the citadel, and by the moimtains which rose behind the
city. Calabria was ou the other side. And then the wide
prospect northwards and southwards over the strait, — a
broad expanse indeed, but still shut in on both sides by a
beautiful shore. While we were admiring these objects, one
after another, oiu" attention was diverted to a certain commo-
tion in the water, at a tolerable distance on the left hand, and
StiU nearer on the right, to a rock distinctly separate from the
shore. They were Scylla and Charybdis. These remarkable
objects, which in nature stand so wide apart, but which the poet
has brought so close together, have furnished occasion to many
to make grave complaints of the fobling of poetry. Such grum-
blers, however, do not didy consider that the imaginative faculty
invariably depicts the objects it would represent as grand and
impressive, with a few striking touches, rather than in fulness
of detail, and that thereby it lends to the image more of cha-
racter, solemnity, and dignity. A thousand times have I heard
the complaint that the objects for a knowledge of Avhich we
are originally indebted to description, invariably disap])oint us
when we see them with our own eyes. The cause is, in every

•538 XETTEKS FKOM ITALY.

case, the same. Imagination and reality stand in the same
relation to each other as poetry and prose do : the former in-
variably conceives of its objects as powerfiü and elevated, the
latter loves to dilate and to expand them. A comparison of
the landscape painters of the 16th centmy with those of our
own day, will strikingly illustrate my meaning. A drawing
of lodocus Momper, by the side of one of Kniep's outlines,
would at once make the contrast intelhgible.

With such and similar discourses we contrived to amuse
ourselves, since the coasts were not attractive enough, even
for Ivniep, notwithstanding his having prepared everything
for sketching.

As to myself, however, I was again attacked with sea-
sickness ; but this time the unpleasant feeling was not relieved
by separation and privacy, as it was on our passage over.
However, the cabin was large enough to hold several persons,
and there was no lack of good mattresses. I again resumed
the horizontal position, in which I was diligently tended by
Kniep, who administered to me i^lenty of red wine and
good bread. In this position our Sicilian expedition pre-
sented itself to my mind in no verj' agreeable light. On the
whole, we had really seen nothing but traces of the utterly vain
struggle which the human race makes to maintain itself against
the violence of Nature, against the malicious spite of Time,
and against the rancour of its own unhappy divisions. The
Carthaginians, the Greeks, the Romans, and the many other
races which followed in succession, built aud destroyed.
Selinus lies methodically overthrown by art and skill; two
thousand years have not sufficed to throw down the temples
of Gergenti ; a few hours, nay a few minutes were sufficient to
overwhelm Catania and Messina. These sea-sick fancies, how-
ever, I did not allow to take possession of a mind tossed up
aud doA\Ti on the waves of life.

At Sea, Tuesday, May 16, 1787.
My hope of having a quicker passage back to Naples, or at
least of recovering sooner from my sea-sickness, has been dis-
appointed. Several times I attempted, at Kniep's recommen-
dation, to go up on deck ; however all enjoyment of the
varying beauty of the scene was denied me. Only one or
two incidents had power to make me forget awhile my gid-
diness. The whole sky was overcast with a thin vapoury

THE VOYAGE FROM MESSINA TO NAPLES. 539

cloud, through which the sun (whose disk, however, was not
discernible) iUuminated the sea, which was of the most beautiful
blue colour that ever was seen. A troop of dolphins accom-
panied the ship ; swimming or leaping they managed to keep
up with it. I could not help fancying that in the deep water,
and at the distance, our floating edifice must have seemed to
them a black point, and that they had hurried towards it as to a
welcome piece of booty and consimiption. However that
may be, the sailors did not treat them as kind guides, but
rather as enemies ; one was hit with a harpoon, but uot hauled
on deck.

The wind continued mifavourable, and by continually tack-
ing and manceuvring, we only just managed not to lose
way. Our impatience at this only increased ^^•hen some
experienced persons among the passengers declared that nei-
ther the captain nor the steersman understood their business.
The one might do very well as captain, and the other as a
mariner — they were, however, not fit to be trusted with the
lives of so many passengers and such a valuable freight.

I begged these otherwise most doughty personages to keep
their fears to themselves. The number of the passengers was
very great, and among them were several "women and children
of all ages ; for every one had crowded on board the French
merchantman, without a thought of any thing but of the
protection which the white flag assured them from the pirates.
I thei'efore represented to these parties that the expression of
their distrust and anxiety would plunge in the greatest alarm
those poor folk who had hitherto placed all their hopes of
safety in the piece of uncoloured and unemblazoned linen.

And in reality, between sky and sea this white streamer,
as a decided talisman, is singular enough. As parting friends
greet each other with their white waving handkerchiefs, and
so excite in their bosoms a mutual feeling — which nothing else
could call forth — of love and affection divided for a while, so
here in this simple flag the custom is consecrated. It is even
as if one had fixed a handkerchief on the mast to proclaim
to all the world, " Here comes a friend over the sea."

Revived from time to time with a little wine and bread, to
the annoyance of the captain, who said that I ought to eat
what was bargained for, I Avas able at last to sit on the deck,
and to take part occasionally in the conversation. Kuiep
managed to cheer me, for he could not, this time, by boast-

540 LETTERS FROM ITALY.

ing of the excellent fare, excite my energy ; on the contrary,
he was obliged to extol my good luck in having no appetite*

Wednesday, April 15, 1787.
And thus mid-day passed without oui- being able, as we
wished, to get into the Bay of Naples. On the contrary, we
were continually di-iven more and more to the west, and our
vessel, nearing the island of Capri, kept getting further from
Cape Minerva. Every one was annoyed and impatient ; we
two, however, who coidd contemplate the world with a
painter's eye, had enough to content us, when the setting sun
presented for our enjoyment the most beautiful prospect that we
had yet witnessed dming our whole tour. Cape Minerva, with
the mountains which abut on it. lay before our eyes in the bril-
liant colouring of sunset, while the rocks which stretched
southwards from the headland, had ah-eady assumed a bluish
tint. The whole coast, stretching from the Cape to Sorrento,
was gloriously lit up. Vesm-ius was visible ; an immense cloud
of smoke stood above it like a tower, and sent out a long streak
southwards — the result, probably, of a violent eruption.
On the left lay Capri, rising perpendicularly in the ah- ;
and by the help of the transparent blue halo. Ave were
able distinctly to trace the forms of its rocky walls. Be-
neath a perfectly clear and cloudless sky glittered the calm,
scarcely rippling sea, which at last, when the wind died
away, lay before us exactly like a clear pool. We were enrap-
tured with the sight. Kniep regretted that all the colours of
art were inadequate to convey an idea of this harmony,
and that not even the finest of English pencils would enable
the most practised hand to give the delicacy of the outline.
I, for my part, convinced that to possess even a far poorer
memorial of the scene than this clever artist could produce,
would greatly contribute to my future enjoyment, exhorted
him to strain both his hand and eye for the last time. He
allowed himself to be persuaded, and produced a most accurate
drawing (which he afterwards colom-ed) ; and so bequeathed to
me a proof, that to truly artistic powers of delineation, the
impossible becomes the possible. With equally attentive eyes
we watched the transition from evening to night. Capri now
lay quite black before us. and. to our astonishment, the smoke of
Vesuvius tiuTied into flame, as, indeed, did the whole streak,
■which, the longer we obser\"ed it, became brighter and

THE TOYAGE FROM MESSIXA TO XAPLES. 541

brighter ; at last we saw a considerable region of the atmo-
sphere, forming, as it were, the back gi'oimd of our natural
picture, lit up — and. indeed, lightening.

We were so enth-ely occupied with these welcome scenes,
that we did not notice the gi-eat danger we were in. How-
ever, the commotion among the passengers did not allow us
to continue long in ignorance of it. Those who were better
acquainted Mith maritime affairs than om-selvcs were bitterly
reproaching the captain and his steersman. By their bimgling,
they said, they had not only missed the mouth of the strait,
but they were very nigh losing the lives of aU the passengers
intrusted to them, cargo and all. We inquired into the
grounds of these apprehensions, especially as we could not
conceive how. during a perfect calm, there could be any cause
for alarm. But it was this very calm that rendered these
people so inconsolable. '• We are,"' they said, " in the cun-ent
■which nms round the island, and which, by a slow but irre-
sistible ground. swell, will draw us against the rugged rocks,
where there is neither the slightest footing, nor the least
cove to save ourselves by.

Made more attentive by these declarations, we contemplated
our fate with horror. For, although the deepening night did
not allow us to distinguish tbe approach of danger, still we
observed that the ship, as it rolled and pitched, was gradually
nearing the rocks, which grew darker and darker upon the
eye, while a light evening glow^ was still playing on the
water. Not the slightest movement was to be discerned in
the air. Handkercliiefs and light ribbons were constantly
being held up, but not the slightest indication of the much de-
sii'ed breath of wind was discernible. The tumult became
every moment louder and wilder. The women with theii*
children were on the deck praying, not indeed on their
knees, for there was scarcely room for them to move, but
lying close pressed one upon another. Every now and then,
too, they would rate and scold the captain more harshly and
more bitterly than the men, who were calmer, thinking over
eveiy chance of helping and saving the vessel. They reproached
him with everj'thing which, during the passage up to this point,
had been borne with silence — the bad accommodation, the high
passage money, the scanty bill of fare, his own manners —
which, if not absolutely surly, were certainly forbidding
enough. He woidd not give an accoimt of his proceedings to

5^ LETTEKS FKOM ITALY.

any one ; iudecd, ever since the CA^ening before he had
maintained a most obstinate silence as to his plans, and what
he was doing with his vessel. He and the steersman were
called mere money-making adventurers, who having no know-
ledge at all of navigation, had managed to buy a packet with
a mere view to profit, and now, by their incapacity and bung-
ling, were on the point of losing all that had been intrusted
to their care. The captain, however, maintained his usual
silence under all these reproaches, and appeared to be giving
all his thoughts to the chances of saving his ship. As for
myself, since I had always felt a greater horror of anarchy
than of death itself, I found it quite impossible to hold my
tongue any longer. I went up to the noisy railers, and, ad-
dressed them with almost as much composure of mind as the
rogues of Malsesine. I represented to them that, by their
shrieking and bawling, they must confound both the ears and
the brains of those on whom all at this moment depended for
our safety, so that they could neither think nor communicate
with one another. All that you have to do, I said, is to calm
yourselves, and then to offer up a fervent prayer to the
Mother of God, asking her to intercede with her blessed Son
to do for you what He did for His Apostles when on the lake
Tiberias. The waves broke over the boat while the Lord
slept, but Who when, helpless and inconsolable, they awoke
Him, commanded the winds to be still ; and Who, if it is only
His heavenly will, can even now command the winds to rise.
These few words had the best effect possible. One of the men
with whom I had previously had some conversation on moral
and religious subjects, exclaimed, ''Ah, il Balanne ! Benedetto
il Balarme!'''' and they actually began, as they were already
prostrate on their knees, to go over their rosaries with more
than usual fervour. They Avere able to do this with the greater
calmness, as the sailors were now trying an expedient the object
of which was, at any rate, apparent to every eye. The boat
(which would not. however, hold more than six or eight men)
was let down and fastened bj^ a long roj)e to the ship, which,
by dint of hard rowing, they hoped to be able to tow after
them. And, indeed, it was thought that they did move it
within the current, and hopes began to be entertained of
soon seeing the vessel towed entirely out of it. But M'hether
their efforts increased the counteraction of the current, or
whatever it was, the boat with its crew at the end of the

THK VOYAGE FROM MESSINA TO KAPJ.ES. 543

hawser was suddenly drawn in a kind of a bow towards the
vessel, forming with the long- rope a kind of bow — or just
like the lash of a whip when the diiver makes a blow mth
it. This plan, therefore, was soon given up. Prayer now
began to alternate with weeping — for our state began to ap-
pear alarming indeed, when from the deck we could clearly
distinguish the voices of the goatherds, (whose fires on the
rocks we had long seen), crying to one another, " There is a
vessel stianding below." They also said something else, but
the sounds were imhitelligible to me ; those, however, who
understood their patois, interpreted them as exclamations of
joy, to think of the rich booty they would reap in the morn-
ing. Thus the doubt which we had entertained whether the
ship was actually nearing the rocks, and in any immediate dan-
ger, was unfortunately too soon dispelled, and we saw the
sailors preparing boat-poles and fenders, in order, should it
come to the worst, to be ready to hold the vessel off the
rocks — so long at least as their poles did not break, in which
case all would be inevitably lost. The ship now rolled,
more \'iolently than ever, and the breakers seemed to increase
upon us. And my sickness returning upon me in the midst
of it aU, made me resolve to return to the cabin. Half
stupified, I tlnew myself down on my mattress, stiU with a
somewhat pleasant feeling, which seemed to me to come over
from the Sea of Tiberias, for the pictme in Merian's Pictorial
Bible kept floating before my mind's eye. And so it is :
GUI' moral impressions invariably prove strongest in those
moments when we are most driven back upon ourselves.
How long I lay in this sort of half stupor I know not, for
I was awakened by a great noise overhead ; I could distinctly
make out that it was caused by great ropes being dragged
along the deck, and this gave me a hope that they were going
to make xise of the sails. A little while after this Kniep
hurried down into the cabin to tell me that we were out of
danger, for a gentle breeze had sprung up ; that all hands
had just been at work in hoisting the sails, and that he him-
self had not hesitated to lend a hand. "We were ^•isibly
getting clear off the rocks : and although not entirely out of
the cm-rent, there was now a good hope of our being able to
make way against it. All was now still again overhead, and
soon several more of the passengers came below to announce
the happy turn of affairs, and to lie dowTi.

544 LETTERS FKOM ITALY.

When on the fourth day of our voyage, I awoke early in
the morning. I found myself quite fresh and well, just as I
had been at the same ])eriod of the passage from Naples ; so
that on a longer . voyage I may hope to get off free, after
paving to the sea a tlu-ee days" tribute of sickness.

From the deck I saw with no little delight the island of
Capri, at a tolerable distance on our lee, and perceived that
the vessel was holding such a coiu'se as afforded a hope of our
being able ere long to enter the gulf, which, indeed, we very
soon afterwards accomplished. And now, after passing a hard
night, we had the satisfaction of seeing the same objects as
had charmed us so greatly the evening before, in a reversed
light. We soon left this dangerous insular rock far behind us.
While yesterday we had admired the right hand coast from a
distance, now we had straight before us the castle and the city,
with PosiUppo on the left, together with the tongues of land
which run out into the sea towards Procida and Ischia. Every
one was on deck ; foremost among them was a Greek
priest, enthusiastic in the praises of his own dear East ; but
who, when the Neapolitans on board, who wei'e rap-
turously gi-eeting theii- glorious country, asked him what he
thought of Naples, as compared with Constantinople r very
pathetically replied, " Anche questa e una cittä .'" (This,
too, is a city.)

We reached the harbour just at the right time, when it
was thronged with people. Scarcely were our trunks and the
rest of our baggage unshipped and put on shore ere they
were seized by two lusty porters, who, scarcely giving us
time to say that we were going to put up at Moriconi's, ran
off with the load as if with a prize, so that we had difficulty
in keeping them in view as they darted through the crowded
streets and bustling piazzas. Kniep kept his portfolio under
his ann, and we consoled ourselves with thinking that the
drawings at least were safe, should these porters, less honest
than the poor Neapolitan devils, strip us of all that even
the very breakers had spared.

END OF VOL. II.

LONDON :
HARRISON & SOS, PRI.VTERS, ST. MARTIN'S LAKE.

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